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Standard Series of Temperance Tales. 3 ; 

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BY MARY DWINELL CHELLIS. 

AUTHOR OF molly’s BIBLE, EFFIE WINGATE’S WORK, ETC. 




'V \ 

J 

BOSTON: 

REJfRY A, YOUJfG ^ CO. 

NO. 24 CORNHILL. 

I rid 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 
HENRY A. YOUNG & CO., 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 


JijmW of 




OL. 1. BILL BROCK’S INVESTMENT. 
“ 11. THE OLD DOCTOR’S SON. 

“ III. MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


“ lY 


(In Preparation.) 


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CHAPTER I. 

November’s darkness, storm and gloom; 

A drunkard’s sin and shame and doom. 

OVEMBER, saddest month of all the 
year. All day the rain had pattered 
quietly on dead leaves ; but as 
evening shadows deepened, the fury 
of the storm increased. Murky clouds drifted 
heavily athwart the sky, while the fierce wind 
swept down hillsides and through valleys, 
dashing large, round drops alike, pitilessly, 
upon the half-roofed cottage of the poor, andr 
the elegant mansion of the rich, 



6 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


Flora Hanson, a beautiful girl thirteen 
years of age, stood by an east window, watch- 
ing the lights in the distance, and shuddering 
when a gust of unusual force swayed the tall 
trees, threatening to lay them prostrate. 
Involuntarily she uttered some ejaculation, 
when a woman’s voice said, Do, Flo, come 
away from that window. It’s bad enough to 
hear the howling and plashing of wind and 
rain, without anything more of the same 
sort.” 

‘‘ Excuse me, 'mother. I didn’t intend to 
speak, and if you are willing, I would rather 
stay here by the window. I can look down 
into the village and see the lights.” 

‘‘ Then stay. It makes no difference to 
me, if you are still.” 

So Flora retained her position, and 
presently the rumbling of a cart was heard, 
with the loud voice of John, man of all 
work, calling for some one to meet him at 
the barn. 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


7 


“ John is very late,” said Mrs. Hanson, in 
a fault-finding tone. ‘‘ I heard your father 
say he ought to have been here before dark.” 

“ He must have had business, mother. He 
wouWn’t stay out in the storm, unless he was 
obliged to.” 

Well, no matter about the reason. I 
wish your father or Walter could find time to 
think of me. It has been the dullest day I 
ever saw ; and now this evening they must 
shut themselves up in the library.” 

“But Walter is learning his lessons. I 
thought you wished him to be a great 
scholar.” 

“ So I do ; and there is tirae enough for 
that by and by. He is only nine years old. 
But your father is so unreasonable, he hears, 
to nothing I can say.” 

“Walter wishes to study this evening, 
mother. You know he is thinking about the 
pri2ie,” 


8 MARK Dunning’s enemy. 

So he is. 1 had forgotten that,” said 
Mrs. Hanson. “ I wish he might get the 
prize ; but so long as this teacher remains, 
there is little prospect of it. She favors the 
Dunning children, and Barton is in the same 
class with Walter. I wish that family would 
leave town. I am glad one of them is out of 
the way.” 

There was no response to this, and soon 
after. Flora went to the kitchen, to see if 
John had come in, and hear what report he 
might bring. As she opened the door, he 
was saying, I can’t stop longer than to 
drink a cup of tea, and eat a bite of some- 
thing. If Dunning is alive, he must be found, 
and Grace don’t want to make a stir about 
it.” 

What is it. Uncle John? Is Mr. Dun- 
ning lost again ? ” 

Yes, child. He’s been missing since 
just after noon, and looking for him is what 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


9 


made me so late home. I didn’t mean to let 
your folks know anything about it, though.” 

Perhaps he is in the lower summer 
house,” suggested Flora. 

He may be,” answered the man whom 
she addressed as Uncle John ; and hurrying 
from the room, his lantern was soon seen 
flashing in and out through the avenue of 
leafless trees. At length the light dis- 
appeared for a short time, and when seen 
again, was stationary, seeming to be held 
aloft in the air. 

‘‘ That means he wants help,” said Mrs. 
Forbes, or Aunt Sarah, as she was usually 
called in the family. ‘‘ I shall go down there 
myself,” she added. 

But you will be very wet,” answered her 
companion. 

Of course 1 shall. No matter for that, 
though, if I’m needed. If you see the lantern 
again in the place where it is now, tell your 
father Mark Dunning is down there.” 


10 MARK DUNNIi^G’s ENEMY. 

‘‘ Yes, Aunt Sarah, I will.” 

To equip herself in blanket, shawl, hood, 
and rubber boots, required but short time for 
the good woman, and then Flora was left 
alone. Directly, however, the chore boy 
came in and sat down by the warm stove, 
wondering a little, yet asking no questions. 
Five minutes passed, when a bell struck, and 
the boy said, Mr. Forbes came towards the 
house a good while ago.” 

“ Yes, he has been in,” answered Flora. 
Where shall I go to find him ? ” 

You needn’t look for him. I will* tell 
father.” 

‘‘ Mighty strange about tilings here,” mut- 
tered the inmate of the kitchen. Old man 
and young woman. Nice girl and — But it’s 
none of my business.” 

Flora glided through the long hall, and 
stood in her father’s presence. 

I was expecting John,” he said, looking 
up. “ I rang the bell for hini.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


’ 11 


‘‘ Yes, father, but John isn’t in the house, 
and I came to tell you.” 

‘‘ How is that ? I heard him some time 
ago. He ought to report himself. Do you 
know where he is ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, sir. He went down to the lower 
summer house.” 

« For what, Flo ? ” and, naturally, he 
walked to the window which overlooked that 
part of the grounds where this house was 
situated. What does that light mean ? 
It looks as though it was near the top of the 
house. No, some one is holding it,” he 
added, speaking more to himself than his 
daughter. “ What can it mean V ” 

‘‘ It means that Mr. Dunning is there, 
father.” 

‘‘ Mr. Dunning ! ” repeated the man, his 

# 

voice quivering with some ill-concealed emo- 
tion. ‘‘ How do you know that, child ? ” 

‘‘ Because Mr. Dunning has been lost since 


12 • 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. . 


noon, and Uncle John has been looking for 
him. Aunt Sarah said if they wanted you to 
know, they would hold the lantern as it is 
now, and I must tell you. Perhaps Mr. Dun- 
ning forgot but what this was his home, just 
as it used to be. What a pity it is he is so 
poor, when he has such nice children. Grace 
is so pretty, too.” 

Hush, child. How you do run on ! It’s 
just as your mother says. There is no end to 
your talking. I suppose I may as well go 
down and see what the matter is. If that 
crazy fellow is there, he must be taken care 
of.” 

This library was a pleasant room ; its 
furniture and adornments indicating refined 
tastes and liberal means. It was hardly in 
keeping with the looks and general appear- 

t 

ance of him who had occupied an arm chair 
near the table, strewed with books and papers. 
His face was that of a shrewd, it might be, 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


13 


unscrupulous business man, a good liver, and 
free drinker. Distorted now with anger, it 
was absolutely repulsive ; yet when occasion 
required, Alfred Hanson could command 
smiles and flattering words. The idea of en- 
countering such a storm, under any circum- 
stances, would have been disagreeable, still 
more so was it now, when he dreaded the 
revelation each step might make. 

“ What is the matter here ? ” he asked, 
when he reached the termination of his 
walk. 

Matter enough,” was the reply. ‘‘ Look 
there;” and John Forbes held the lantern so 
that its light fell full upon the face of a man, 
who at first sight, seemed to be sleeping. 

‘‘ Mark Dunning ! ” 

‘‘ Yes, and I’ve been trying to rouse him. 
But it’s more than I can do.” 

“This is unfortunate,” said Mr. Hanson. 
“ How came the fellow here ? ” 


14 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


I presume he walked. He isn’t able to 
keep a carriage,” answered John, with marked 
emphasis. 

‘‘ And what is to be done with him, now he 
is here ? ” 

Take care of him ; and it must be done 
quick. He must be carried to the house.” 

‘‘ That would be very awkward,” was the 
cold reply. 

‘‘ It might be more awkward to have him 
die here. People would be likely to talk 
about it.”^ 

‘‘ Is my husband here ? ” 

So occupied had been the trio that they 
had not noticed the approach of the speaker. 
She stood where the rain beat upon her, yet 
gave it no heed, repeating the question, which 
surprise had not allowed to be answered. 

Yes, Cousin Grace, your husband is 
here,” said Mrs. Forbes. Come in from 
the rain.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


15 


“ No, Sarah, I only want my husband. I 
could think of no other place to look for him, 
or I shouldn’t have come here. Mark,” she 
called, softly. 

Your husband seems to be sleeping,” 
said Mr. Hanson, with apparent effort at self- 
control. At least, we have not been able to 
rouse him.” 

At these words, the lantern which Mis. 
Dunning carried fell from her grasp, and the 
next moment she was kneeling upon the 
damp floor, one hand clasping that of the un- 
conscious man, and the other upon his fore- 
head. A curse sprang to the lips of Alfred 
Hanson ;• but remembering himself, he set his 
teeth firmly, and turned away. 

Short time did Mrs. Dunning give to idle 
grief. “ How can Mark be carried home ? ” 
she asked, addressing her cousin. 

“ He can’t be taken home in the condition 
he is now,” was the reply. “ It would be 


16 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


impossible. Something must be done for liim 
at once.” 

^^Bnt ” 

No buts, Cousin Grace. It is life or death 
now. Mark is chilled by exposure to the 
cold and wet.” Mr. Hanson echoed these 
words, offering the hospitalities of his house, 
with well feigned cordiality. 

Thank you,” replied Mrs. Dunning. 

But home is the best place for my husband, 
and I shall esteem it a favor if some way can 
be provided for taking him there.” 

John Forbes was about to speak in answer 
to this, when a quick, firm step was heard, 
and while the inmates listened eagerly, a boy 
sprang in, calling, “ father, mother.” His 
mother’s own child. The same lustrous black 
hair, deep, dark eyes, clearly cut features, and 
resolute mouth. A boy, indeed, in years, 
yet his symmetrical, well-knit frame gave 
him the appearance of greater maturity. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


17 


‘‘ How is this, Arthur ? ” asked Mrs. Duii- 
ning, in surprise. 

Mr. Clement sent me within five miles of 
home, on business, and said I could spend the 
night with you, if I would be back early in 
morning. So I came ; and it is well that i 
did.” 

Mr. Hanson stood looking at the new comer 
in mute astonishment. So handsome, strong, 
and self-reliant, any parent might well be 
proud of him. 

Mrs. Forbes understood the feelings of all 
present, and was seeking to devise some plan 
for avoiding the necessity of taking Mark 
Dunning into the house of her employer, 
when the prostrate man slowly opened his 
eyes. 

“ Where am I ? ” he gasped, a moment 
after. Where am I ? ” he repeated, in- 
stantly. Tell me where I am ? ” 

‘‘In the old summer house,” answered 
Arthur. 


18 


MAEK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


“ Uncle Mark’s old summer house ? ” 

Yes, father ; and we had better go home 
now. It is dark and rainy. I have come 
over to spend the night with you. You have 
been asleep here.” 

Yes, I must have fallen asleep, and I am 
so chilled now, I can hardly move. You here 
too, Grace ? ” he added, observing his wife. 

Then he made an effort to rise, and with 
his son’s assistance, stood upon his feet. 
There was need for haste in getting him 
home, as those who looked upon him well 
knew. The wild light in his eyes, and the 
convulsive working of his face betrayed in- 
tense excitement. 

Mr. Hanson, who had stepped without the 
shelter of the house, now calling John, told 
him to harness the horse to the carriage, and 
take the whole family home. Give Mark 
Dunning some dry clothing, and see that he 
is made comfortable.” 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


19 


The sound of his voice produced a fearful 
effect upon the man of whom he spoke. 

Traitor ! Villain ! ” hissed the latter. “ You 
robbed me of everything but Grace, dear 
Grace. She loved me if I wa% poor, and you 
couldn’t buy her from me.” 

Hush, hush, Mark. Don’t talk so. We 
are going home to the children now. Don’t 
say anything to trouble me.” 

But the spell was upon him, and there 
might have been a tragedy, had not the 
master of these grounds wisely withdrawn, 
leaving others to dispose of the unwelcome 
intruder. 

The event proved that Mark Dunning 
needed little assistance. It was only neces- 
sary to keep pace with his hasty strides, as 
straight on he rushed, with the utmost speed, 
pausing for nothing, until he stood in the 
highway. Then, as though addressing a 
visible person, he shouted forth denunciations 
and curses. 


20 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


In vain was he urged to desist. He shook 
his son from him with an oath. He was mad 
with rage and intoxicating drink. Above the 
wail of the storm his voice could be heard ; 
and Alfred Hanson, who, held bj some power 
he had not the will to resist, listened, 
tremblingly. 

He was rich and prosperous, as the world 
counts riches and prosperity. His home 
sheltered wife and children, and he.computed 
his gains by thousands. From comparative 
obscurity he had risen to his present position ; 
and men delight to honor those whom fortune 
favors. ‘‘ Traitor ! Villain ! ” Strange words 
to be addressed to him ; yet they rang in his 
ears, and seemed branded upon his very 
heart, as with a red hot iron. One ^ust of 
wind after another swept by, yet they did not 
drown the tones of that clear shrill voice. 

Standing there in the darkness, with no eye 
but God’s upon him, hot blushes of shame 


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MARK Dunning's enemy. 


21 


and conscious guilt flushed the cheeks of tlie 
listener. His thoughts went back to the time 
when he had first looked upon the beautiful 
retreat he now called home. Many years had 
passed since then ; already past the meridian 
of life, aged, too, for his years, he had small 
enjoyment of all which he possessed. 

Morose and gloomy, except with Walter, he 
seldom unbent from his usual sternness in his 
family. Twice married, Flora was the daugh- 
ter of his first wife, who had been quite unlike 
her. whom the young girl now addressed as 
mother. Walter was the idol of his parents ; 
a boy who, despite the coldness and disregard 
for the feelings of others he sometimes mani- 
fested, was yet attractive and interesting. As 
his wishes were usually consulted, outbursts 
of temper were with him of r^ire occurrence ; 
and his mother pronounced him a little 
gentleman." 

At thought of his boy, Alfred Hanson re- 


22* . MARK Dunning’s enemy. 

preached himself for being moved by the rav- 
ings of a mad man. What was Mark Dun- 
ning to him? He entered the house, threw 
aside his wet garments, and went to the 
library, where he hoped to be alone. 

“ 0 father, has Mr. Dunning gone home ? ” 

This was the question which greeted him, 
and to which he replied, Yes, I hope so.” 

“ Was that he talking so loud ? ” 

Yes, and now Flo, do go away. 1 am 
tired, and have heard enough for one evening. 
Go stay with your mother,” he added, notio- 
ing the grieved look in his child’s face. 

She went to the parlor, and took her place 
again by the window, dropping a heavy cur- 
tain which separated her from the other in-. 
mates of the room. Soon Walter, who really 
loved his sister, went to her, notwithstanding 
his motlier’s complaints at being deserted. 

‘‘ I’ve learned every word of my lesson,” he 
said, joyously. I wish I could get the prize ; 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


23 


and I could, if it wasn’t for Bart Dunning. 
He never misses once. I most wish he would 
sometimes.” 

‘‘ It isn’t right to wish that, Walter.” 

“ I know it, and I don’t really ; though 
mother says I ought to be the best scholar, 
because my father is the best man. She says 
I shouldn’t let such a ragamuffin as Bart 
Dunning beat me.” 

‘‘ Barton isn’t a ragamuffin,” answered 
Flora, softly. I never saw him have on 
ragged clothes.” 

‘‘ Nor I either,” rejoined her brother. 

His clothes are patched ; but I like him, and 
I’d rather he’d have the prize than anybody 
else, if I can’t get it. Father thinks we’re 
pretty small boys to be working for a prize. I 
guess the teacher thought we should study 
harder, if she offered a prize.” 

Yes, of course she did, and I wish our 


teacher would offer a prize.” 


24 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


Should you get it, Flo ? ” 

No. I think Grace Dunning would get 
it. She is the best scholar in our class.” 

Is she as old as you are ? ” 

No, a year younger.” 

Then she is just twelve ; and oh my ! 
isn’t she pretty ? A little prettier than you 
are, Flo.” 

Yes, Walter, a great deal prettier than I 
am.” 

I guess not a great deal prettier, though 
perhaps she would be, if she wore handsome 
dresses,” said the boy. “ When I’m a man 
I’ll give her some, just to see. Did you know 
she’s our cousin ? ’ Mother says they aint 
much cousins ; and they can’t be ; else they 
wouldn’t live in such a little house, and we in 
a large one.” 

Mrs. Hanson overheard snatches of this 
conversation, and again wished the Dunning 
family would leave town. Mark was a dis- 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


25 


grace to himself and every one connected 
with him, however remotely. Had she heard 
his accusations that evening, she might have 
desired his absence for a different reason. 

Mr. Hanson was alone in his library, pacing 
the floor with quick, nervous steps, wondering 
what next would come to him and others. 
Mark Dunning was the bane of his life. Not 
often did they meet ; never intentionally, 
unless the former was excited by intoxicating 
drink. 

More than an hour passed, and yet John 
Forbes did not return. Another hour went 
by, and solitude became insupportable. His 
wife looked up as he entered the parlor, but 
the expression of his face did not invite a 
greeting. The children were sitting at the 
table. Flora, as usual, devoting herself to her 
brother. He glanced at them for a moment, 
and then commenced his monotonous tread. 

I do wish you wouldn’t walk this evening. 


26 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


It always makes me nervous, and after such a 
day as I have had, it is intolerable.” 

Walter called his father’s attention, and 
thus the complaint seemed to be heeded. 

Bed time for children,” he remarked, as 
the clock struck nine ; and soon after he left 
the room, saying that he had some accounts to 
look over, and must sit up late. 

It would have been nearer the truth to say 
that he had some accounts to think over ; but 
he was not scrupulous in regard to the truth. 
At eleven o’clock there was a rap on his study 
door, and as he opened it, the pale face of 
Mrs. Forbes was seen. 

Come in, and sit down,” he said. 

I can’t stop for that,” answered the 
woman. I came to tell you that John can’t 
leave Mr. Dunning to-night.” 

“ Have you just come from there ? ” 

“ Yes, the doctor brought me to the gate.” 

How is he, Mark, I mean ? ” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


27 


Raving mad, though more quiet than he 

« 

has been. It has taken three men, besides 
John, to keep him on the bed.” 

Can’t something be done for him ? ” 

‘‘ Something has been done.” 

“ Have his family what they need to make 
tliem comfortable ? If not, I wish you would 
provide for them, on my account.” 

They require no more than their friends 
are able and willing to provide,” was the 
reply. 

‘‘ I am a friend to them,” said Mr. Hanson, 
glad of an opportunity to speak upon this 
subject. “ I know Mark considers me an 
enemy, but ” 

‘‘ We won’t talk of that now,” answered 
Mrs. Forbes. Mark is his own worst enemy. 
Good night.” 

True. No enemy however powerful and 
malicious, can so work a man’s ruin as his 
own unbridled passions and depraved appetites. 


28 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Dowered with all natural gifts, which, rightly 
improved, commanded the highest success in 
life, Mark Dunning was a drunkard ; and, but 
for his family, would have been a wandering 
outcast. 

In sober moments, he shrank from himself 
with horror, shuddering at the thought of 
crimes, which, in his madness, he contem- 
plated with delight. His finely organized 
brain, delicate perceptions, and quick sensi- 
bilities made him far more susceptible to the 
use of stimulants, than one of coarser mold. 

Call such, weak, if you will ; but of such 
are they who charm the world with poetic 
numbers and creations of beauty. The man, 
upon whose uncovered head the storm beat 
that wild November night, but for one fatal 
habit, might have stood among the proudest 
of the land. His eloquence might have 
swayed the hearts of men, and turned them 
at his will. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


29 


Yet he raved ; with method, perhaps ; still, 
it was madness which prompted the utterance 
of frightful curses and imprecations. How 
long he might have braved the storm, no one 
could tell, as Dr. Graves, a physician whom 
he had known and respected from boyhood, 
fortunately passing that way, came to the 
rescue. With the doctor’s previous acquaint- 
ance, he needed to ask no questions of the 
group before him. He comprehended all at 
a glance. 

‘‘ Good evening, Mark,” he said, cheerfully. 

Rather rough, this evening, and you are 
some distance from home. You had better 
ride with me. I should like some company.” 

“ Can’t ride, to-night,” was the quick reply. 

There is a murder case on trial, and I am 
the prosecuting attorney. Hard case, too ; 
plenty of money on the other side, witnesses 
bribed .and all that. But I am bound the 
murderer shall swing.” 


30 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


That’s right,” answered the doctor, hu- 
moring his fancy. ‘‘ Do your duty. But I 
haven’t heard much about the case ; so I must 
depend upon you for particulars. Take a 
seat with me, and let us talk ii> over. The 
trial can’t go on without you, and an open air 
court ought to adjourn, such weather as this.” 

The frenzied man hesitated, hurled one 
more denunciation at his invisible foe, and 
then sprang into the buggy. 

‘‘ We will drive slow and take the longest 
way. Men, like you and me, needn’t fear a 
little wet ; and if anybody wants to go faster 
than we do, we shan’t be offended if they 
pass us. If we were walking, we could cross 
the footbridge, but it is hardly wide enough 
for our carriage.” 

These last remarks, so little pertinent to 
the matter in hand, were made in a loud 
voice, and intended as a suggestion to those 
who stood silently by the road side. 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


31 


‘^That’s a good liiiit,” said John Forbes, 
a moment after, as the doctor drove slowly 
away. We can take the short cut across, 
and get to the house before they do.’’ 

Let us do so, then,” replied Mrs. Dun- 
ning. “ Perhaps Mark will forget he has 
seen us, if we are home first, and it will be so 
much better for the children.” 

Arthur went first, the others following as 
best they could ; and all were gathered around 
a warm stove, when Dr. Graves drove up. 
Calling, in his familiar way, John Forbes 
went out, saying, as he did so, “ A wet night, 
doctor.” 

‘‘ Yes, wet enough. I overtook our friend 
Mark, and have brought him home. Riding 
is more agreeable than walking, such a night 
as this. He has been telling me something 
of a case in which he is engaged, and I be- 
lieve I will come in and hear more of it.” 

“Do so, doctor, and I will put your horse 


32 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


and buggy under the shed. My wife and I 
have just walked over.” 

Then we shall have quite a party of 
friends. Bu^^, Mark, you are not going to 
leave us,” added the doctor, grasping firmly 
the man thus addressed. 

It required the united strength of three to 
force Mark Dunning into the house, where he 
seemed bent upon the destruction of every- 
thing within his reach. Grace and Barton, 
accustomed as they were to their father’s wild 
freaks, were terrified, and at a whisper from 
Arthur, went upstairs to their rooms. Per- 
suasions and mild measures failed. Even the 
doctor’s commands were unheedeed. 

You must lie down,” he said. 

Lie down ! ” thundered Mark Dunning, in 
reply. Lie down in — .” But I will not 
repeat the horrid, soul-sickening language he 
used. 

His brain was on fire, lurid lights danced 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


33 


before his eyes, and he was sulfering such 
torments as no pen can describe. He would 
not, could not rest. His wife, herself un- 
naturally cairn, sought to soothe him, address- 
ing him by the endeared names which had so 
often thrilled his heart ; but these were worse 
than idle words. 

There was no alternative. He must be 
treated like a- raving maniac, as he really 
was. More help was summoned. With 
hands and limbs pinioned, he was laid upon 
the bed, and forced to swallow a powerful 
opiate. For a time, this produced no good 
effect ; indeed, it seemed to aggravate the 
malady it was interided to soothe. Shrieks, 
groans, gnashing of teeth, and exhibitions of 
almost superhuman strength, alternated with 
pitiful pleadings for mercy, and wild cries for 
assistance. 

Those who listened could never forget. 
If Arthur Dunning had needed anything to 


34 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


convince him that there was but one safe path 
for him, he would need it no more. Young, 
yet old enough to comprehend the full force 
of what he saw and heard, the syren of the 
wine cup could never lure him to her embrace. 

‘‘ This is an attack of genuine, horrors,” 
said one man to another, when, in an interval 
of comparative quiet, they could relax their 
vigilance. Dunning can’t live through many 
like this.” 

The fewer the better,” was answered. 

Guess the doctor thinks so, too, by his 
looks. There must be a last time, and it 
wouldn’t be strange if we have come to it.” 

This half whispered conversation was in- 
terrupted by outcries which might well appal 
men of the strongest nerves. At length, 
about ten o’clock, the paroxysms subsided, 
and at eleven, one attendant was thought suf- 
ficient. Mrs. Forbes returned home, while 
her husband remained. 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


35 


‘‘ What time must you be off in the morn- 
ing, Arthur ? ” he asked. 

Before light. I ought to be in the store 
by eight o’clock, at the latest, and I have 
twelve miles to ride.’’ 

“ Then go to bed this minute. You will 
have short time enough for rest.” 

Yes,” added Mrs. Dunning ; “ Go to bed 
and rest, my son. 1 am sorry your visit has 
been so unpleasant.” 

‘‘ But I am glad I came,” responded the 
boy, following his mother into another room. 
‘‘ You needed me. Haven’t I been of some 
use ? ” 

“Yes, indeed, Arthur; but I would have 
spared you this trial.” 

“ Why should you, mother ? I can bear it 
as well as you, and better. I am glad I came 
at this time. I shall want to see father be- 
fore he goes out again, and shall come home 
again as soon as possible.” 


36 


MARK running’s ENEMY. 


Why, Arthur ? ” 

“ Because I must talk with him, if I am 
only a little boy. I thought father was doing 
well. Dr. Graves told me so, only last week. 
How did this happen ? ” 

I don’t know. Your father was very 
much depressed this morning, and went out 
early. When he came in, I knew he had 
been drinking. He went out again after din- 
ner, and I presume drank again. He is so 
easily affected that a very small quantity of 
liquor unmans him. Oh, if it were possible 
for him to break off entirely, I should be the 
happiest woman in the world.” 

“ It is possible,” answered Arthur. I 
have read a good deal upon the subject lately, 
and hard as it is for such a man as father to 
give up the use of stimulants, it can be done. 
I know it can.” 

But your father l\as tried. He wishes to 
redeem his life ; but he seems to have lost the 
power of self-control.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


37 


‘^No, mother, I am not willing to believe 
quite that. He hasn’t tried in the right 
way.” 

“ I know of but one way, and that is to 
abstain entirely. I don’t think your father 
had tasted any kind of liquor for more than 
a month, until to-day.” 

“ But he smokes.” 

Yes. That seems to be a great comfort 
to him, and it is certainly a harmless indul- 
gence.” 

‘‘ I am not sure of that, mother. In the 
first place, it takes money, which is needed 
to buy comforts for you and the children. 
Then I heard some one say, the other day, 
that a drunkard could never reform, so long 
as he used tobacco. If I was in father’s 
place, I would give it up, and never touch 
it again.” 

Mrs. Dunning wondered at and almost 
blamed herself for sitting there discussing 


38 


MAUK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


her husband’s faults. But since Arthur had 
left home, she was beginning to have great 
confidence in him ; and as he shared the 
misery inflicted by his father, it was proper 
that he should speak of it. 

Barton was wide awake, when his brother 
lay down beside him. 0, dear, don’t you 
wish there wouldn’t anybody ever get drunk,” 
he sobbed. It’s awful ; a great deal worse 
than being dead. Grace said so, and she 
cried, ever so long. I shouldn’t wonder if 
she’s crying now. You won’t go away again, 
will you ? ” 

‘‘ I must,” replied Arthur, making an effort 
to speak cheerfully. I must go, before 
light, in the morning, and you must help 
mother all you can. How do you get along 
at school ? ” 

First rate. I shall get the prize. I 
haven’t missed once. It’s going to be worth 
a dollar, and I wish the teacher would give 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


39 


it to me, ill money, so I can give it to mother. 
She don’t have but little money.” 

Well, Barty, don’t talk about that now. 
Mother shall have all the money she wants 
sometime. Have you prayed to-night ? ” 

“ No. I felt so bad I couldn’t. Seems to 
me I don’t love God so well as I used to.” 

“That won’t do, Barty. You must pray 
all the more when everything looks dark.” 

“But I can’t,” and here the boy wept un- 
restrainedly. It makes me feel wicked when 
some of the scholars tell me father is a 
drunkard, and my clothes are all patched.” 

How gladly Arthur would have borne all 
this for the dear young brother, cradled in 
his arms ! But each heart, be it young or 
old, must bear its own burdens. Yet prayer, 
offered by one, comforted botli, and Barty 
fell asleep. 

Arthur hardly knew if he had slept at all, 
when the striking of the clock warned him 
that it was time to rise. 


40 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


His mother, hearing him move, hastened to 
prepare breakfast, and while the stars yet 
shone, he started on his ride. His visit at 
home had been very different from wliat he 
expected, and a boy with less self-reliance and 
less trust in God would have been utterly 
disheartened. But Arthur Dunning was 
naturally hopeful. The first rays of the sun 
cheered him as a special manifestation of 
kindness, and when the hilltops, one after 
another, were bathed in rosy light, all gloom 
and dispondency fled. 

Not that he forgot the dear and suffering 
ones at home, or was unmindful of the trials 
which beset his path. He could neither for- 
get or be unmindful ; yet he had faith that in 
God’s good time, deliverance would be 
wrought. 

As he told his mother, he had read much 
upon the subject of intemperance, and his 
reading had been accompanied with earnest 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 41 

thought. He had listened eagerly to the ex- 
perience of reformed men, and believing that 
reform was possible for his father, he pleased 
himself with fancies of what life might be to 
them all in the future. 

Well for him that he could not look in 
upon the home circle. Had he done so, his 
feelings would have undergone a sudden 
revulsion. 

His father had awakened to a dim con- 
sciousness of what had transpired. He re- 
membered having gone to the old summer 
house, and there resting. He had a confused 
idea of having seen Alfred Hanson, and from 
his present weakness and suffering, inferred 
something of what had followed. The pale, 
haggard face of his wife, showed that she had 
passed a sleepless night ; and raising his 
eyes to hers, he said, “ You must hate me 
now, if you have not before.” 

I can never hate you, my husband,” she 
answered. 


42 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


‘‘ I liate myself he cried, wildly. 0, 
Grace, if I dared, I would rid you of my pres- 
ence. I am not fit to live, and God knows I 
am not fit to die. Curses on the man who. 
profited by my ruin.” 

Mark — .” Only a word ; but the sweet 
tone in which it was spoken, and the soft 
hand laid ligiitly upon liis forehead, made 
him repent the angry expression. 

“ Forgive me. But I am such a wretch 
that I deserve no mercy from God or you.” 

“ Not a wretch, Mark. You can never be 
that.” 

Then what am I ? Have I not dragged 
you down, almost to the bottomless pit, ruined 
myself, and beggared my children ? I dreamed 
of Arthur, last night. He is a noble boy, our 
boy, Grace.” 

Here the wretched father buried his face in 
the pillows, and wept such tears as, wrung 
from the agonies of remorse, seem like drops 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


43 


of liquid fire. A moment, and raising his 
head, he threw the pillows to the extreme 
corner of the room, exclaiming, “ I’m not 
going to lie here. I have been here long 
enough. My clothes, Grace. Bring me my 
clothes. I ai» going out.” 

Where are you going, Mark ? ” • 

‘‘ Going where I can get something to 
drink. I’d sell my soul for a bottle of 
brandy, and make a good bargain at that. I 
am dying with thirst. Give me — Give 
me — ” 

He had overrated his strength. This out- 
burst, with the effort of rising, quite ex- 
hausted him, and he fell to the floor. Mrs. 
Dunning, with the aid of her children, at- 
tempted to lay him upon the bed ; but failing 
in this, was forced to let him remain where 
he had fallen. 

So soon as he could speak, he insisted upon 
going out. He could not live without brandy. 


44 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Do send Barty for some,” he urged, when 
convinced that he had not strength to go him- 
self. Barty, come here.” 

The boy obeyed. What, father ? ” he 
asked. 

I want you to go to Beet’s ^id get a pint 
of brandy. Your mother must give you 
money to pay for it.” 

Would she ? This was the severest trial 
to which Mrs. Dunning had ever been sub- 
jected. She had no money, except what 
Arthur had given her the evening before ; and 
this was needed to buy food for her family. 
Moreover, her children had endured enough 
of disgrace, without being subjected to this 
last, most humiliating of all. 

The child stood silent, with quivering lips, 
looking from one parent to the other. 

You can’t mean that you wish Barton to 
go for brandy.” 

I do mean it,” shouted Mark Dunning. 


MARK running’s ENEMY. 


45 


‘‘I am in^a huny, too, and the sooner he 
goes, the better it will be for him. Don’t you 
hear what I say, boy ? ” 

Yes, sir.” 

Then why don’t you start ? ” 

Because — ” 

Leave the room, Barton,” interrupted his 
mother, choosing to bring the storm upon her 
own head. 

The father was furious. I will have 
brandy,” he cried. I will have it. I will 
drink it and die. That will be an end of me, 
Grace, and you can be a lady. Yes, a lady. 
Why didn’t you marry Alfred Hanson, and 
live in Uncle Mark’s old home ? You 
wouldn’t have been the wife of a drunkard, if 
you had. Give me some brandy.” 

“ I will give you some coffee, Mark. It is 
very good, and very strong.” . 

Then bring it, quick. But I’ll have the 


brandy for all that.” 


46 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Coffee, strong as it was, did not satisfy 
him. He asked if Barton had gone, and was 
greatly excited when told that he had not. 

Mrs. Dunning was a woman of rare forti- 
tude and self-possession ; yet these were be- 
ginning to fail, when, happily, the good doc- 
tor made his appearance ; and glad to escape 
from her husband’s presence, she left them 
together. 

I will not repeat all their conversation, 
which was, at first, scarcely more than dis- 
connected utterances on one side, and sooth- 
ing replies on the other. 

I have some medicine with me, which I 
think will do you good,” at length said the 
visitor, taking from his coat pocket a flask, 
containing some dark colored liquid. 

Is it hi^andy, doctor ? ” 

No, Mark, I wouldn’t give you brandy, 
unless to save your life. You have too much 
of that, any way.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


47 


“ I hadn’t drinked a drop for a month, till 
yesterday.” 

“ I thought so,” was the reply. I told 
Arthur, last week, that you were doing well, 
and would soon open an office again.” 

“ And did you believe it, doctor ? ” 

“ Yes, I did ; and otliers believed it, too. 
If I were in your place, Mark Dunning, I 
would retrieve my name and fortune. You 
can do it, if you will.” 

A wonderful change passed over the face of 
the man to whom this was said. It isn’t 
possible,” he murmured. Think where I 
am now.”. 

I do think, I know all about it.” 

No you don’t, doctor. There are some 
things one knows only by experience. If you 
have anything for me, give it to me now.” 

A wine glass full was given to him, with 
the remark, It is not very palatable ; but it 
is what you need.” 


48 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


No matter whether it is palatable or not. 
I can drink anything was the reply. ‘‘ I 
am crazy with thirst.” 

Never mind that, now. We are going to 
talk of business.” 

But I haven’t any business.” 

“ Don’t interrupt me,” said the doctor, 
smiling. I was at Mrs. Conant’s day before 
yesterday and she consulted me in regard to 
some property left by her husband. It seems 
that he bought a piece of land of William 
Giles’ widow; and now the old man’s son 
claims the land.” 

“ How can he do that? ” asked Mark Dun- 
ning. 

He says his stepmother had no right to 
sell the land and couldn’t give a clear title.” 

Yes, she could. I know all about that.” 

Mrs. Conant said you did and asked me 
if ” 

If I was fit to be trusted,” interrupted 
the listener. 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


49 


Well, about the same as that, Mark, arid 
I told her that you were.” 

‘‘ I wish that was true.” 

‘‘ It was true when I told her, and it will 
be true again. You can make it so.” 

I wish I could. Tom Giles is a rascal, 
and I should like to show him up.” 

“ Then do so. Mrs. Conant will put the 
business into your hands if ymi will accept it.” 

‘‘ Not as I am, now. Ten years ago I could 
have done it ; but I am too far gone.” 

“ Never say that, Mark, as long as life ^nd 
your family are left. You ought to do well 
if only for the sake of your wife. I saw 
Mrs. Hanson pass her a few days ago, and 
1 could not but notice the contrast between 
them. 

Grace is a queen beside that woman,” ex- 
claimed Mark Dunning, impulsively. 

“ That she is, and she should wear queenly 
garments,” replied his companion. 


50 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


I know it. Think how I have dragged 
her down, though I love her better than my 
own soul.” 

And do you love strong drink better than 
either ? ” 

‘‘ No, I hate it,” he hissed between his 
teeth. I hate it, and yet I die of thirst 
without it.” 

No, Mark, #you don’t die. You live, and 
you must live. Resolve once for all to give 
up this degrading habit.” 

I have resolved, and from each resolve I 
fall still deeper. I tell you, doctor, you don’t 
know anything about it.” 

Have you had your breakfast ? ” 

This question asked merely to divert atten- 
tion, failed of its intended effect as was 
evinced by the reply. I haven’t thought 
of breakfast. All I want is something to 
drink.” 

Dr. Graves remained as long as other en- 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 51 

gagements would permit, administering an 
opiate to bis excited patient, and promising 
to call again before night. ‘‘Be sure that 
your husband doesn’t go out to-day,” he said 
to Mrs. Dunning as he left the house. “ I 
don’t think he has strength to go if he should 
try, but nobody knows what a man in his 
condition can do.” 

Breakfast was prepared and eaten by the 
other members of the family, although Mark 
Dunning refused to taste it, declaring that he 
loathed the sight of food. Nothing,' however, 
was said in regard to brandy ; and after a time, 
as he lay with closed eyes, he seemed to be 
sleeping. 

The drugs administered by his physician 
were taking effect ; and his wife was careful 
that he should not be disturbed. John 
Forbes in passing came to the door, and after 
enquiring for Mark, drove on without the 
usual loud commands to his oxen. 


52 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


When the children had left for school, Mrs. 
Dunning had time for reflection ; and though 
her way was hedged in on every side she did 
not quite despair. A glorious morning had 
succeeded a tempestuous night. Might not 
such a morning dawn for her ? ” 


CHAPTER II, 


Sad record of the misspent years ; 

Sad record, blotted o’er with tears. 

BOUT a week after the events nar- 
rated in my first chapter, while 
riding through a remote part of the 
town, Dr. Graves accosted an elderly 
woman and invited her to take a seat in his 
buggy. 

“ I declare, doctor, it’s you, aint it,” was 
the reply. 

Certainly it is,” he answered, laughing. 

Well, I’m glad of it. I’ve wanted to see 
you and I shan’t be sorry to ride. I lent my 
horse to one of the neighbors to go a journey, 
and I’m walking over to my nephew’s to have 



53 


54 


M:\RK Dunning’s enemy. 


a talk about that laud. They say Tom Giles 
has feed all the lawyers in town to keep them 
on his side, and some folks think I’d better let 
him have his own way.” 

Don’t do that, Mrs. Conant. Just step 
right in here ; or do you want me to get out 
and wait u|X)n you ^me as though we were 
young folks. 

‘‘ No, I don’t want to be waited on ; but I’m 
so aggravated about this business I can’t 
think of much else.” 

With the doctor’s assistance Mrs. Conant 
was soon seated beside him, when he listened 
to a long recapitulation of what this one and 
that one had said. ‘‘ You see Giles has got 
the most money. He can afford to spend it, 
too, for the sake of getting that land into his 
hands ; and the lawyers are such a set of 
scamps I wouldn’t trust one of them. If 
Mark Dunning was what he used to be, I 
shouldn’t be afraid to trust him.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 55 

The best thing you can do is to trust him 
as it is.” 

Why, doctor, they say he had a fit of 
delirium tremens, a few days ago.” 

He did. There is no denying that, Mrs. 
Conant. It was a severe attack, too, and for 
a few hours, it was. doubtful if he lived 
through it.” 

There, I didn’t more than half believe it ; 
but if you say so, it must be true. I told 
neighbor Jones that you said Mark had re- 
formed ; but he said it was no such thing.” 

‘‘ Bad news travels fast.” 

That’s what I always say,”* rejoined Mrs. 
Conant. If anything’s wrong, it will be 
trumpeted from one end of town to the other. 
Now I haint had a single encouraging ward 
said to me about this business with Giles, ex- 
cept what you said ; and I’ve had more 
company within two months, than I’ve had 
before for three years. It beats everything 
Jiow folks will talk.” 


56 MARK DUNNma’s ENEMY. 

Dr. Graves was sufficiently acquainted with 
his companion to understand that she must 
have her say before he could expect to be 
heard ; and, truth to tell, she had been sorely 
tried with the condolence of well meaning, but 
ignorant people. 

‘‘ Now, what should you do, if you was in 
my place, doctor ? ” 

Put the business into Mark Dunning’s 
hands, and tell him to manage it as well as 
he can.” 

Would it be safe ? ” 

I don’t know. You asked me what I 
should do, and I told you.” 

Well; / don’t know, doctor. If Mark was 
a sober man. I’d risk it in a minute ; but if 
he should get on a spree, just when court 
comes, I should lose my case, sure as preach- 
ing.” 

I don’t think there would be any danger. 
At any rate, you must put in a defense, or re- 
linquish your claim.” 


«?MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 57 

I know I must,” said Mrs. Coiiaiit, after a 
short silence. I’ll go over to-morrow, and 
talk with Mark about it, though it makes me 
feel bad every time I see him. He was a 
promising boy.” 

“ He was. He was,” replied the doctor. 

So I say ; and nobody ever heard anything 
against him, till Alfred Hanson came round. 
1 never understood that, and when the old 
gentleman died, and left Mark only a thousand 
dollars, I thought there was something wrong, 
somewhere. If Alfred Hanson had turned 
out a drunkard, I shouldn’t thought strange, 
he’s such a coarse grained piece.” 

. That’s just the reason he isn’t a drunk- 
ard. If Mark Dunning had been coarse 
grained, as you call it, he wouldn’t be where 
he is now.” 

Well, that beats, me, doctor. But I sup- 
pose you know.” 

“ I believe I do. Alfred Hanson has drank 
three times the liquor that our lawyer has.” 


58 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


“ Then why don’t he get drunk ? ” 

Because he is differently made up. But 
here we are, at your nephew’s. I suppose you 
wish to stop.” 

‘‘ Yes, I may as well, as long as I have 
taken the trouble to come, though I don’t 
want any more advice. I guess you’ve got 
the right of it ; and I’ll see Mark, some time 
this week.” 

Do ; and if you are sorry, charge the 
blame to me. Business is just what he needs, 
and you may help him to reform.” 

Well, I’ll try;” and the speaker entered • 

* 

the house of her relative, while Dr. Graves 
drove on, hoping that two would be benefited 
by the advice he had given. 

Mrs. Gonant could ill afford to lose the 
property at stake, and if Mark Dunning could 
prove her title good, he would serve both her 
and himself. The claimant would scrliple at 
nothing. He was wealthy ; and having once 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


59 


commenced the suit, would not relinquish it, 
until fairly beaten. 

As Mrs. Conant had decided, she carried 
her decision into effect at the earliest moment 
it could be done conveniently. She was a 
friend to the lawyer and his wife, having 
'known them as children, and still feeling in- 
terested in their welfare, although she seldom 
met them. 

I won’t go there empty handed,” she said 
to her daughter. If stories are true, they’re 
poor enough, and Miss Dunning takes in 
dress-making. I’ll carry some butter and 
cheese, and a few other little things. I’ll find 
a way to leave them, without hurting any 
body’s feelings.” 

‘‘ Then you won’t say anything about their 
, being poor, mother ? ” 

‘‘ La, no, child. Don’t you suppose I know 
better than to do that ? I* never twit folks of 
their poverty. Don’t I live on a farm, and 


60 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


aint it rulable for fanners to^ carry something, 
when they go visiting in the village ? I guess 
’tis. At any rate, 1 always carry something 
to the minister’s, and he don’t ever seem to 
feel bad about it, nor his wife, either. Miss 
Dunning’s* mother and I used to go to school 
together ; and we were good friends, too. 
She was a nice woman ; but she had a pretty 
hard time. Her husband was sick, and they 
didn’t seem to get much beforehand. After 
he died, she worked hard to give Grace an 
education. The girl liked her books so well, 
lier mother said she should have them, at any 
rate ; but I guess she don’t get much time to 
read now.” 

“ I presume not, mother. But wouldn’t it 
be well for you to pack up what you intend to 
carry ? It is nine o’clock, and the days are 
short. You’ll hardly have time to call on 
Mrs. Whitcomb, unless you start by ten.” 

I shan’t, that’s a fact ; but since my last 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 61 

talk with the doctor Tve thought so much 
about Mark Dunning and his wife. No mat- 
ter about that now, though. Just bring the 
gallon jor and I’ll put some of my best butter 
in it. Cut off a quarter of the cheese on the 
corner shelf, and I guess I’ll take half a 
bushel of Lemon Pippins. Then, perhaps, I 
might as well fill the bag'wifh Sweet Russets. 
They are good to bake ; and, another thing, 
don’t you suppose they would like some 
honey. We can spare that small box just as 
well as not.” 

Mrs. Bond, who was herself a widow, 
smiling at her mother’s generous intentions, 
gave her assistance cheerfully. Other little 
things ” were added, until there was time for 
no more to be packed, when Mrs. Conant 
said, with a gentle sigh, “ I guess that will do 
for once.” 

Mark Dunning was seated by a window 
looking out upon a dreary prospect when she 


62 . 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


appeared. Turning to his wife, he said, 

Here is one of your old friends. If she 
enquires for me, tell her I don’t see com- 
pany. 

How do you do. Miss Dunning. I’m glad 
to see you,” was the visitor’s hearty, greeting. 

And I am glad t(^ see you. Please to 
come in. It is a long time since you have 
called upon me.” 

‘‘ Yes, I know it. But you see I liave to 
keep pretty busy about home.” A little 
anxious after all as to how her donations 
would be received, Mrs. Conant did not heed 
the invitation to vralk in, until it was re- 
peated. I guess I will come in a few min- 
“ utes,” she then answered. I want to see 
your husband on a little business. You make 
me think of your mother,” she added, after 
being seated. “ You look more like her as 
you grow older.” 

“ So people tell me, . and d consider it a 
compliment,” said Mrs. Dunning. 


.MARK Dunning's enemy. 


63 


You may. Your mother was a hand- 
some woman, and she didn’t seem to grow 
old like the rest of us.” 

‘‘ I don’t see that you grow old, Mrs. Co- 
nant.” 

But I do, and I feel it, too ; though I’m 
pretty smart for a woman sixty-five years old. 
You know Matildy has come home to live 
with me, so we get along very well.” 

Your granddaughter is with you, too.” 

‘‘ Oh, yes, she is the life of the house ; 
singing like a bird from morning till night, 
and helping everybody.” 

“ I have heard Grace speak of her,” re- 
iparked the hostess. “ They are in the same 
class in the Sabbath School, and Grace thinks 
Ella is the sweetest singer she ever heard.” 

“ Her singing is sweet to me,” replied the 
grandmother. I was reckoned to have a good 
voice when I was young, but it never was 
equal to Ella’s. 


64 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


All this time Mrs. Conant had been consid- 
ering how she should get through with the 
first part of her business. To use her own 
words, “ she never had a faculty for going 
round and round a thing and then coming up 
to it easy.” 

So now, after all her deliberations, she 
said, abruptly, “ I’ve brought something for 
you. I told Matildy ’twas rulable when 
farmers called on the minister, and I guessed 
’twould do as well for a lawyer. So I took 
along some butter and cheese, and a few 
other little things. I hope you won’t be 
offended. Miss Dunning. I didn’t suppose but 
what you had enough to eat.” 

‘‘ I am not offended, Mrs. Conant. You 
are very kind, and I am very grateful.” 

La, child, don’t say that. I didn’t bring 
much. The things are out in the wagon, and 
I guess we might as well have them unloaded, 
right away. Then, I want to see your hus- 


MARK DUISNING’S ENEMY. 


65 


band about some business Tom Giles is 
making for me. I never was so beat about 
anything in my life, as I am about that.” 

Mrs. Dunning went out to assist in un- 
loading the wagon ; a task which proved more 
arduous than she anticipated ; and many were 
the exclamations of gratitude, as one gift 
after another was carried into the house*. 

Now there aint anything more but this 
bag of apples ; and if you’ll take hold of one 
end, we can carry it without any trouble.” 

Mark Dunning had secretly watched pro- 
ceedings up to this point ; but here his 
gallantry triumphed over tlie desire to remain 
unseen. Good morning, Mrs. Oonant,” he 
said, presenting himself at the wagon. If 
this bag is to be carried, I am the one to do 
it.” 

Why, good morning, Mr. Dunning. I 
guess your wife will be glad to have you. take 
hold. I don’t suppose she’s used to lifting a 
great deal.” 


66 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Where is this wanted ? ” asked the gentle- 
man. 

Right in your kitchen,” was the reply. 

There were the proofs of Mrs. Conant’s 
kindness, disposed in goodly array ; for each 
and all of which thanks and praises were be- 
stowed, until she felt obliged again to apolo- 
gise for the liberty she had taken in bringing 
them. 

Mark Dunning interrupted her, saying that 
they could nowhere have been more accept- 
able. I am ashamed to acknowledge that 
my family needed just these things.” 

“ Well, if you’re glad of the things. I’m 
glad I brought them ; so we won’t say any 
thing more about it. I want to talk with you 
about that piece of land Tom G»iles says 
belongs to him.” 

Yes, Mrs. Conant, I have heard about 
that. Walk in this way ; ” and he opened 
the door, into a small, well furnished room, 
in the center of which was a table, covered 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


67 


with books and papers. Dr. Graves was 
speaking to me of Giles’ claim.” 

I expect you know all about it.” 

I think I do. At any rate, I know 
enough to settle the matter. Giles is aware 
of it, too ; but he counts on my degradation. 
Dr. Graves told me so, last evening ; and I 
should be glad to show him that for once he 
builds his hope upon a poor foundation. I 
can defeat him, and I will^ if you will trust 
the case tp my management.” 

That’s just what I came for,” responded 
Mrs. Conant. The doctor told me I could 
trust you.” 

How her good, motherly face beamed with 
kindness, inviting confidence, and giving 
assurance of sympathy. 

But you know what my life has been for 
the past few years,” said the lawyer. 

‘‘ I know you haint done right, any more 
than the rest of us, and I have been sorry for 


68 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


you, every day. I remember the first time 
you went into the old meeting house, with the 
man you called uncle. That was thirty years 
ago. I remember I told my husband about 
you, when I got home. I knew, by your 
looks, that you’d make a smart man ; and I 
expected, with such bringing up as you’d 
have, that you’d be a good one.” 

I ought to have been, and I should have 
•been, but for one ba4 habit. I never wished 
to do any one an injury.” 

I don’t believe you did. I always heard 
you called a kind hearted boy ; and when you 
was a young man folks expected a good deal 
of you.” 

They have been sadly disappointed, Mrs. 
Conant. I have ruined myself and my fami- 
ly, too.” 

‘‘ You’ve got a good wife, Mark Dunning. 
I knew her mother ; and she was a good 
woman. She set everything by Grace; and 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


69 


there want a girl in town better brought up 
or thought more of than jour wife.” 

I know it ; and she deserved a better 
home than I have made for her.” 

‘‘ Well, now, Mark,” said the good woman, 
looking at him with tearful eyes and making 
a great effort to command her voice, ‘‘ I didn’t 
mean to call you Mark, but I used to when 
you was a boy, and it seems more natural. 
Why can’t you turn right round and let folks 
see what you can do. Seems to me I would 
if I was in your place. It aint a good plan 
to drink so much. I haint anything to say 
against taking a glass once in a while as 
medicine ; though I think most folks are 
better off without it. If I don’t feel just 
right, I take a good dose of camomile or 
wormwood, and it livens me right up.” • 

Mrs. Conant, I would give ten years of 
my life if I could never see another drop of 
liquor. I hate it. My very soul loathes it ; 


70 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


yet I should drink it if it was before me. 
You can’t understand such contradictions. 
No one can but a drunkard ; and I am a 
drunkard.” 

No you aint. You’re a sober man, and 
you can keep so if you want to.” 

I do want to,” said the unhappy man. I 
would rather die than drink again ; but I have 
tried so many times to reform, and failed each 
time, that I have nearly lost faith in myself.” 

It’s my opinion you never can reform 
without help.” 

And who is going to help me.” 

‘‘ God,” replied Mrs. Conant, reverently. 
“ Why, when anything troubles me I go right 
to God and tell hini all about it. If I want 
help, I ask him.” 

Jnid do you always get it ? ” 

Yes, in one way or another ; and I aint 
afraid to ask him about things most folks 
wouldn’t think of praying for. I spread this 


. MAEK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 71 

land business all out before him and it seemed 
right that I should come here.” 

I am glad you came,” said Mark Dun- 
ning. 

So am I. I told Matildy last night I felt 
as though I should be blessed in coming.” 

“ You have blessed others in coming,” was 
the reply. It’s a long time since I prayed, 
but I shall try now. There have been curses 
on my lips instead of prayers. A drunkard 
is not in the habit of praying.” 

But you are not a drunkard. I never ex- 
pect to hear you called by that name again. 
To-night, I am going to pray for you, es- 
pecially, and I expect the Lord will hear me.” 

. And I will pray for myself. I will do it, 
vile as I am.” 

Then there won’t be much more trouble, 
if you only keep on praying. When you begin 
to think about, drinking, no matter where you 
are, ask God to take away your desire for 


72 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


liquor. It won’t make any difference you 
know, if you don’t speak a word. God sees 
our hearts.” 

‘‘ I will try,” the lawyer answered ; and there 
was something in the simple faith of his com-^ 
panion which inspired him with hope. She 
never troubled herself to discuss the question 
as to what prayers were acceptable, and what 
not ; but more wise in her theology than 
many a learned scholar, she cast all her bur- 
dens upon the Lord. 

This conversation, a small part of which I 
have transcribed, occupied much time; and 
in the midst of the talk about business, din- 
ner was announced. 

Why, Miss Dunning, I never thought of 
staying to dinner,” said the visitor. I 
didn’t mean to take off my things here, when 
I came from home. I calculated to get round 
to Miss Whitcomb’s, before dinner time.” 

You have not been here very long, Mrs. 
Conant. It is not one o’clock yet.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


73 


Well, that’s later than I should thought. 
I hope you didn’t put yourself out any about 
dinner. Don’t the children come home ? ” 

“ Not to-day,” answered their mother. 
Grace wished to practice some new tunes with 
the scholars, and Barton didn’t care to come 
home unless she did. Grace has a new sing- 
ing book with which she is greatly pleased.” 

‘‘ It’s the same they use in singing school, 
aint it,” asked Mrs. Conant. 

The same, and I suppose Ella has one.” 

“ To be sure. She wants every new sing- 
ing book that comes along, though her 
mother thinks it’s too far for her to come to 
singing school very often.” 

It is quite a ride. Four miles to your 
place, isn’t it ? ” 

‘‘ All that, and a pretty rough road, too. 
I’ve thought sometimes, since I began to feel 
so old, that I’d give up my farm and move 
nearer the village ; but I keep putting it off.” 


74 MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 

Perliaps you’ll conclude to build on the 
Dunn lot,” said Mr. Dunning. 

“ I hardly think I shall,” was the reply. 
‘‘I suppose, though, that’s what Tom Giles 
wants of it. There’s a good site for a house 
a little north of that large elm, and there’s an 
excellent spring, of water near by. Mr. Co- 
nant used to talk about building there when 
he got too old to work on a farm.” 

After dinner, when Mrs. Conant was pre- 
paring to take her leave, she said to the 
lawyer, Now you must tell me how much I 
ought to pay you. I don’t understand law 
business ; but I want to do the right thing.” 

I think you left the retaining fee in the 
kitchen,” was the answer she received. 

‘‘ Don’t talk about that. I brought them 
things to your wife, and they haint anything 
to do with this business.” 

Mr. Dunning really felt under obligations to 
her for entrusting the case to his care, and 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


75 


thus giving him an opportunity to appear 
again in his professional capacity ; but as she 
insisted, he accepted the usual retaining fee, 
after which, she went on her way rejoicing. 

Mark Dunning had not been seen in the 
village since the day of the storm, and many 
enquiries were made in regard to him. As 
the doctor’s carriage was seen at his door, 
some supposed that he was sick, and shook 
their heads gravely, while descanting upon 
the prospect of his recovery. 

“ He has been breaking down a good 
while,” said one. He looks ten years 
older than he ouglit to, and it wouldh’t be 
strange if this should carry him off. They 
say he had a terrible fit the other night. He 
couldn’t do anything better for his family 
than to die, and get out of the way.” 

You are mistaken there, Shedd,” replied 
another, standing by. Reform would be 
vastly better than death. For my part, I 


76 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


haven’t given up the belief that he will do bet- 
ter, sometime. .He is discouraged now. If a 
few of us could take hold and help him a 
little ” 

I should like to know how that could be 
done,” remarked a tliird. Dunning is 
proud as ever, and don’t want charity.” 

No, that he don’t,” was the reply. We 
must give him business, if anything.” 

' “ I don’t know where you’d find anybody 

fool enough to do that,’’ said a hard-featured 
man. “ The way he managed his last case in 
court finished him. His uncle, as he called 
him, was wise, not to leave his property to 
Mark.” 

I don’t know about that,” some one made 
answer. ‘‘I never understood that will. 
Mark was one of the best boys in town. 
Everybody liked him, and he was a great 
favorite. We expected he’d turn out smart.” • 

He is smart,” responded the man who* 


MARK DU^iNING’S ENEMA’. 


77 


had just said that his career, as a lawyer, was 
finished. If he’d let liquor alone, he might 
be in Congress, within ten years. I tell you, 
he’d run ahead of any man in the district. 
Strange he must drink so.” 

Strange he must drink at all,” was the 
reply. ‘‘ He never drinked a quarter of the 
liquor some men do, without anybody’s think- 
ing of it. It’s the way he’s made up. When 
he was a boy, the tears would come into his 
eyes, as quick as into a girl’s ; but he was a 
brave little fellow, after all. It seems too 
bad that he should die a drunkard.” 

Who is that ? ” asked Dr. Graves, paus- 
ing by the group who discussed their neigh- 
bor’s prospects.” 

We were speaking of Mark Dunning,” 
said one. 

‘‘ He won’t’ die a drunkard,” responded the 
doctor. ‘‘ I saw him an hour ago, busy with 
his papers, as he used to be; and you may 


78 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


depend upon it that he is coming up. If I 
had any law business on hand, I should em- 
ploy him.” 

The subject of this discussion sat industri- 
ously writing, with something of the old light 
in his face, and something of the old ambi- 
tion in his heart. His wife entered the room, 
and looking up with a happy smile, he said, 
Grace, I do believe I shall conquer, this 
time. Mrs. Conant was right when she said I 
could never do it alone. I am going to put 
my whole trust in God. I shall pray con- 
stantly that he will take away my terrible 
thirst for liquor, or give me strength to resist 
its cravings.” 

Then I believe you will succeed, my 
husband.” 

And you will pray for me, too, Grace.” 

I have always prayed for you, Mark ; 
always, since I first loved you, and that was so 
many years ago.” 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


79 


And I thought I should make you so 
happy. I used to call you my queen ; but 
this doesn’t look much like a palace ; and the 
king is only a poor, degraded man.” 

The half hour which followed was too 
sacred, with sweet confidence and mutual 
tenderness, to be unveiled for stranger eyes. 
The hope of one, and the good resolutions of 

the other, were strengthened. A rap at the 

/ 

door interrupted these communings. 

I have come to see your husband upon a 
little business,” said one of the villagers, as 
Mrs. Dunning answered his summons. “ Is 
he at home ? ” 

Yes, sir. Please walk this way.” 

Not for years had Mark Dunning stood be- 
fore one of his townsmen with such an ex- 
pression upon his really handsome face. 

Busy, I see,” remarked the visitor. 
Somewhat,” was the reply. But I am 
not too busy to welcome a friend.” 


80 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


“ I came partly in that capacity, and partly 
on business. I want to get some writings 
drawn up.” 

I shall be very glad j:o draw them up for 
you, Mr. True, and I am confident that I can 
do it to your satisfaction.” 

Of course you can, as you are now. I 
never heard of your having but one fault, and 
that a had one. I hope you won’t resent my 
plain speaking. I am a friend to you, and 
wish you well.” 

I am not at all offended, Mr. True. I 
know what 3^ou mean ; and with God’s help I 
am trying to conquer my fault. If it is 
possible for a man once fallen into the depths 
to rise again, I shall.” 

“ Then give me your hand, Mark Dunning. 
I bid you God speed, and if I can help you I 
will. Don’t give up, and don’t go back. 
There’s only one safe course for such as you.” 

I know it, and I intend to try that course. 
I have even given up smoking.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


81 


I am, glad to hear that,” said Mr. True. 

It is the best way, though it don’t seem to 
injure some people. My mother couldn’t 
tolerate tobacco smoke ; so that kept me clear 
of it. As for liquor, I never cared anything 
about it, and since I’ve had a family of boys 
I don’t touch it. There is no telling who can 
drink moderately and who can’t.” 

You are right,” replied the lawyer. 

Moderation is impossible for some people. 

• If they taste of liquor, they must drink to 
drunkenness ; and the quantity which produces 
this, is sometimes very small. In some con- 
ditions of mind and body, one glass of wine 
will madden me so that I have no control 
over myself. I have resolved again and 
again, that I would not be so weak ; but the 
stimulus is too strong for my resolution. 
Now, I shall abstain altogether, — if God 
gives me the power to do so,” he added, rever- 
ently. 


82 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


I have no doubt that you will,” was the 
response. God helps those who help them- 
selves ; and we must try to keep you busy. 
How about that writing ? Can you do it in 
the morning ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, as early as you please. I am 
impatient to be at work again. I need to 
work.” 

“ And work will come, never fear. I don’t 
have much law business ; but I shall be sure 
to come to you with everything in your line.”. 

Thank you, Mr. True. Your call has 
done me good, and I shall be the stronger for 
it.” 

Barton came from school, running in ad- 
vance of Grace, and holding high a letter. 
It’s from Arthur,” he cried, seeing his mother 
by the window. ‘‘ Directed to you, too,” he 
added, as he entered the house. Do read 
it loud. I want to hear .every bit of it.” 

Mrs. Dunning cut the envelope, and four 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. - 83 

letters appeared ; one for each member of the 
family. 

There, that’s why it took so many stamps. 
I thought it was a dreadful thick letter.” • 

‘‘ I lioped to come home,” Arthur wrote to 
his mother. “ But one of the clerks is sick, 
and we are so busy I don’t like to ask Mr. 
Clement to spare me. I wish I could be with 
you all the time. 

‘‘ Don’t work too hard, mother. Sometime 
I am going to do work enough for us both ; 
and you shall be a lady.” 

Grace’s letter was just what she needed; 
full of affection and encouragement ; some 
advice in regard to her studies, and a bit of 
gossipL about dress and fashions. 

Barton, who was just learning to read 
writing, studied his epistle for a long time ; 
and when at last he knew it all, laid it away 
carefully, without revealing its contents. 

Father’s ” was of the most importance ; 


84 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


written with much care, and containing earn- 
est pleading. All that a dutiful and loving 
son could say to an erring father, seemed to 
be condensed upon this one sheet. The letter 
was tear-stained when Mark Dunning first 
looked at it, and still more stained when he 
laid it down after a careful perusal. 

Supper, which had been prepared with es- 
pecial reference to his taste, received small 
attention from him. He could not eat. 
Never had he been so moved by any appeal 
as by that of his son. He longed to clasp 
the boy in his arms and tell him all his hopes. 

Grace was the only member of the family 
who seemed inclined to talk. Arthur’s letter 
had made her so happy that she could not 
keep silence. In accordance with his sugges- 
tions, she was planning a new -suit to be made 
from an old dress of her mother’s which had 
been considered past further usefulness. A 
placid smile rested upon the mother’s face. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


85 


and Barton looked as though suddenly ele- 
vated to some new dignity. 

After supper Mr. Dunning returned to the 
room in which he had been writing, sat down 
by the table, placed a sheet of paper before 
him and then fell to musing of his past life. 
He thought of*the home in which his eyes 
had first opened to the light ; and of the 
parents whose love had made his early child- 
hood like a glad, bright dream. He even 
seemed to inhale the fragrance of his mother’s 
favorite flowers, and hear again the sweet 
tones of her voice. 

Then he recalled the dark hours of her 
sickness, death, and burial, his father’s grief, 
and the gloom which rested upon their home. 
Ere one short year had passed, the husband 
was laid beside his wife, and Mark Dunning 
was doubly orphaned. In his bereavement 
and destitution, a relation of his father’s, and 
whose name he bore, offered him a home. 


86 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Gladly was this accepted ; and quickly was 
his heart won by the affectionate kindness he 
received. Uncle Mark,” he called his 
friend ; although their relationship warranted 
no such title. Once established in his new 
home, and accustomed to liis new mode of 
life,, the elastic spirits of boyhood rose above 
the despondency occasioned by his parents 
death. Pleasant years followed in which he 
repaid the generous expenditure made for 
him by such an improvement of his time and 
talents as reflected honor upon his friends. 

Meanwhile, Uncle Mark was growing older ; 
and a nephew thought it worth his while to 
ingratiate himself into favor. At this point 
large drops of perspiration stood upon the 
face of him for whom memory’s magic hand 
retouched a fading picture. Again he cried, 

God help me ; ” and again renewed his 
vows. 

This nephew, older by many years than his 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


87 


uncle’s protege, was cool-headed and politic. 
Adapting himself to the habits and profes- 
sions of those with whom he associated, he 
seemed sometimes to possess sterling princi- 
ple ; while he was in reality but playing a 
part. 

When a boy, he had been no favorite with 
his upright relative ; now as a man, he was 
able to overcome the , prejudice • against him, 
and in various ways make himself useful to 
him whose favor he sought to gain. Time 
had somewhat dimmed the mental vision of 
one who, in his prime was rarely deceived in 
his estimate of character ; and taking advan- 
tage of this, his nephew forwarded his own 
plans, with small fear of detectipm 

At this time, Mark was away, prosecuting 
his studies, looking forward to their comple- 
tion with some impatience, that he might re- 
turn to the home where he had known so 
much of happiness, and where he had been 
ever welcome.. 


88 


MARK RUNNING S' ENEMY. 


For Alfred Hanson he had little respect, 
and regretted to learn that he was at ‘‘The 
Oaks,’’ as Mr. Dunning’s place was called. 
The visitor, however, seemed rejoiced to meet 
him, according him the courtesy due to a 
host ; and finding that his uncle’s opinion of 
the man had changed, Mark allowed his own 
prejudice to be dissipated. 

The two were often seen together ; and 
there was talk of late sittings ; when wine 
was brought from the cellar, and drinked 
freely. Soon the younger was’* conscious of 
something like coldness on the part of his 
benefactor, his place frequently being usurped 
by the new comer. 

Directly after his return, he had opened an 
office in the village, and being a general 
favorite, received more encouragement than 
he could reasonably have expected. He went 
much into society, and his prospects were 
flattering. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


89 


Still Alfred Hanson remained, and people 
wondered, as he professed to have come there 
only upon a visit. But for this he offered a 
plausible excuse. He had business in that sec- 
tion of country, and his uncle desired him to 
make The Oaks ” his head quarters ; and 
this story received confirmation from the fact 
that he was frequently absent for several days 
at a time. 

Strange rumors, which no one could trace 
to their origin, were heard from tijne to time, 
• in regard to the young lawyer’s career, while, 
in college and acquiring his profession. Be- 
fore this, not a shadow had rested upon his 
fair fame, and many pronounced the reports 
untrue. Others inquired and wondered, per- 
haps recalling some trifling incident, which, 
by the aid of a powerful imagination, might be 
construed into a fault. Young Mark Dunning 
was dissipated, having more than once been 
known to drink to excess ; and this rumor at 


90 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


length reached the ears of him who would be 
most interested in it. 

The proprietor of The Oaks ” had been a 
temperate man all his life, seldom indulging 
even in wine, unless with a friend ; and he 
had taken care to impress upon his namesake 
the necessity of moderation. ‘^Better never 
taste of wine, than once to be unmanned by 
it,” he had often said. If I mistake not, 
you, Mark, will need to be particularly on 
your guard.” 

Mindful of this counsel and caution, the 
young man had been extremely guarded, 
often making himself singular, by his extreme 
notions. Twice, while in college, he had 
to his great mortification, yielded to the influ- 
ence of his companions, for which he paid the 
penalty in a confused brain, and aching head. 

This decided him ; and thenceforth he 
allowed himself no indulgence in stimulants, 
unless what he considered a proper regard for 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


91 


politeness demanded it. Even then, while 
others drained their glasses, he hardly dimin- 
ished the contents of his. 

Alfred Hanson made himself aware of these 
scruples, and determined to overcome them. 
Since to give a detailed account of how this 
was accomplished, would occupy more space 
than I can devote to this part of my story ; it 
is suiSicient to say that it was done under the 
guise of friendship, and by such means as 
were most likely to succeed. 

Mrs. Hanson, sister of Mr. Dunning, joined 
her son, when he had been domesticated with 
his uncle about six months, and from that 
time, Mark seldom saw his old friend, except 
in the presence of a third person. Previous 
to this, he had been able to do so, during the 
nephew’s absence ; but everything was so 
changed, that these interviews were far from 
pleasant. 

For years Mr. Dunning had pleased himself 


92 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


with the anticipation that when Mark had 
completed his studies, he would bring a young 
bride to enliven their home ; and the object 
of his choice, Grace Barnes, was the old man’s 
especial favorite. ‘‘Just as soon as you are 
through with study, we must have a wedding, 
and a new house-keeper,” he said, only a few 
weeks before Alfred Hanson had appeared. 
“ Mrs. Dean will be glad to resign her posi- 
tion, and we will pension her off.” 

Now, nothing was said of wedding or house- 
keeper ; and Mark felt too keenly the es- 
trangement between his benefactor and him- 
self, to introduce a subject which might seem 
like pushing his own interests. If there 
could have been a frank, confidential inter- 
change of thoughts and feelings, this es- 
trangement might have been healed ; but one 
party considering his kindness outraged, while 
the other was too proud and too much 
grieved to seek a reconciliation, this was not 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


93 


effected. Every day which passed made this 
more difficult ;. and after Mrs. Hanson’s arri- 
val, it would have been nearly impossible. 

She was very unlike her brother ; so much 
so that in earlier years he had chosen to 
riiake provision for her and her family at a 
distance, rather than have her an inmate of 
his home. Now, in his dotage, he welcomed 
her, and she, having earned wisdom by expe- 
rience, knew how to humor his whims and 
make herself necessary to his comfort. 

Mark she treated with such deprecating 
condescension, that in the home where his 
wishes and happiness had been so long con- 
sidered, he felt himself almost an intruder. 
True, the housekeeper and other servants 
still consulted liim, yet they were seldom per- 
mitted to carry out his wishes. 

Mrs. Dean rebelled against this new order of 
things. If Mr. Dunning was what he used 
to be, I’d go to him and that woman, or I 


94 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


should leave the house,” she said to Mark. 
‘‘ But the old gentleman is failing, and I shall 
stay by him till I’m sent away.” 

‘‘ I hope you will,” was the reply. I wish 
I could make your position more pleasant, 
but I see no way that I can. Home seems 
very different to me from what it has before, 

and Uncle Mark has changed so much ” 

‘‘ I see that,” interrupted the housekeeper. 
“ Things are going wrong and the less you 
have to do with that Alfred, as his uncle calls 
him, the better it will be for you. He is no 
friend to you. You must let me speak the 
truth for the sake of old times, when you sat 
in my lap and told me all your troubles.” 

“ Do speak the truth and the whole truth 
to me,” said Mark. 

Well, then I will. I’m afraid you drink 
wine with that man ; ” and the speaker 
watched her companion to see how this 
would be received. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


95 


“ I have sometimes. He urges it upon 
me and it seems a little more social.” 

‘‘ You had better not have it urged upon 
you again,” said Mrs. Dean. The old gentle- 
man never liked much drinking, and he is 
sure to hear of all you do in that way. * Take 
my advice and never drink wine again with 
Alfred Hanson.” 

‘‘ I will take it,” replied the young man. 
‘‘ I have been a fool for being influenced by 
him when 1 never more than half trusted 
him.” 

“ Has the old gentleman made his will ? ” 

Mark surprised at this question asked so 
suddenly, said without thought, ‘‘ He told me 
that he made his will several years ago.” 

I am glad to know that." Alfred Hanson 
would like his uncle’s property and will try 
to get it.” 

Mark Dunning had thought of this before ; 
yet having no claims upon the man who had 


96 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


thus far befriended him, he could only wait 
the issue. Prom tliis interview with Mrs. 
Dean, he went to visit Grace Barnes and was 
there somewhat enlightened in regard to the 
various reports concerning himself. 

Of course I know they are not true,” 
added the young girl. But your uncle may 
be prejudiced by them. He has changed 
very much within the past year. The last 
time I saw him he talked constantly of his 
nephew.” 

“0 Grace, darling, you. wont turn from 
me,” exclaimed Mark, a sudden fear taking 
possession of his heart. 

‘‘ Never ! ” she answered, looking up to 
him with an expression of the utmost confi- 
dence. 

‘‘ Bless you for the assurance,” and at that 
moment, he cared little for the opinion of 
others, so long as he was loved by one so 
dear. 


MARK running’s ENEMY. 97 

He decided, however, to improve the first 
opportunity to come to some understanding 
with his uncle ; and full of this thought at 
their next meeting alone, he said, I am 
anxious to have a long, confidential talk with 
you, Uncle Mark.” 

These words were no sooner spoken, than 
Mrs. Hanson glided into the room, and 
adroitly engaged her brother’s attention. She 
wished to discuss some. family matters. 

Angry at the intrusion, Mark returned to 
his office, feeling keenly his own isolated posi- 
tion. It was not the old man’s wealth he 
coveted ; but the thought of losing the love 
and confidence which had been his from boy- 
hood, almost overpowered him. His educa- 
tion was completed, and he had been admitted 
to the bar under favorable circumstances. 
Surely, he could provide for himself. 

If he had only been more firm to resist 
temptation, — Ah ! here was his weakness. 


98 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


The insinuating smile and professed friend- 
ship of one whom he instinctively doubted, 
had lured him to sinful indulgence. 

In his conversation with Grace Barnes, he 
did not acknowledge that, under much of 
falsehood reported concerning him, there was 
a slight foundation of truth ; but, after re- 
fleeting, he hastened to do so, telling her 
wherein he had failed. She accepted all 
which he said, honoring and loving him the 
more for his frankness, while never doubting 
that he was worthy her fondest trust. 

Alfred Hanson, returning from a short 
absence, found himself on an entirely different 
footing with the young lawyer. In vain were 
all his blandishments. Cigars, wine, and 
conversation were alike, declined. 

What has come over you ? ’’ asked the 
tempter. I shall leave The Oaks, if you 
keep this up.” 

An angry reply was about to be given, when 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


99 


better thoughts prevailed ; and with a few 
unmeaning words, Mark Dunning turned 
away. 

At this time, Mrs. Hanson was assiduously 
cultivating the acquaintance of Mrs. Barnes 
and her daughter, lavishing caresses upon 
Grace, and winning the mother’s heart by 
well timed flatteries. They were often in- 
vited to “ The Oaks,” but strangely enough, 
these invitations were given for days when 
it was known that Mark would be absent. 
Mr. Hanson then improved the opportunity to 
display his gallantry and consideration, some 
times quite burdening the object of his atten- 
tions. 

• Mrs. Barnes was really pleased with him, 
and sometimes endeavored to combat what she 
considered an unwarranted prejudice, on the 
part of her daughter. 

Before any explanation had taken place 
between the old gentleman and his namesake. 


100 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


he was stricken down with paralysis. Then, 
as was natural, his sister watched beside him, 
Mark never seeing him alone. The physician 
said there was no hope of his recovery, al- 
though he might live for months. 

Mrs. Dean, still longing to set matters 
right, waited for an opportunity to do so. 

That woman and her son are looking to the 
property,” she said to herself, seeking in vain 
for means to counteract their schemes. At 
length she told Mark if he would stay about 
the house, she would manage that he should 
have an interview with his uncle. The old 
woman is going out, and I heard Alfred say 
that he had some business to attend to. But 
don’t let them know you are anywhere round. 
If you do they won’t stir a step.” 

The ruse succeeded. The old man smiled 
and extended the hand over which he had yet 
some control, as Mark entered his room. 
This poor, emaciated hand was bathed in 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


101 


tears. Pride gave way and gratitude found 
voice. Never, even in his boyhood, when re- 
ceiving some unexpected pleasure or renewed 
token of interest on the part of his benefac- 
tor, did Mark Dunning express more of grate- 
ful affection. 

“ Something has come between us, dear 
uncle, and I have been very unhappy,” he 
said. But I have not disgraced you. I 
could not do that.” 

But, — Mark, — my — boy, — * they — 
said ” 

I know what has been said,” interrupted 
Mark, anxious to prevent this labored speak- 
ing. 

Nearly an hour they passed together, during 
which time the younger man talked almost 
constantly ; not always comprehended, as he 
saw with pain ; yet still so far reinstated in 
favor that a hand was laid upon his head in 
blessing. “ You trust me now, dear uncle,” 
he sai^. 


102 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


Yes, — my — dear — boy. Stay — with 
me. I meant — to — do — you — justice, — 
and — provide — for — you.” 

No matter about that. You have done 
everything for me already. I care for your 
love and confidence ; not for your wealth.” 

Mr. Dunning was about to reply, *when his 
nephew came in and said, with apparent sur- 
prise, ‘‘ You, here ? I expected to find Mrs. 
Dean. She said she would sit with uncle, 
while mother and myself were out ; and I am 
very sorry you have been troubled. I came 
past your office a few minutes ago and some 
one waiting there, asked if you had gone out 
of town. I will take your place.” 

But I choose to remain where I am,” ali- 
swered Mark. My business is of compara- 
tively small consequence.” 

‘‘ Stay,” whispered the invalid, with a grati- 
fied smile. 

Alfred Hanson winced under this; and 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


103 


something of his true nature gleamed from 
the dark eyes which were bent full upon his 
rival as he said, Your presence has excited 
uncle already, and for his sake, I must ask 
you to leave the room.” 

‘‘ Not unless he desires it,” was the reply. 

‘‘ Stay,” again said the old man, in a husky 
voice, and at that moment he seemed to* read 
the character of those before him. 

His brow contracted, his lips worked convul- 
sively, and he looked at Mark as though seek- 
ing assistance in the utterance of thoughts, 
which agitated him. 

Dr. Graves entered the room, as was his 
wont, without giving notice of his approach. 

I am glad to see you here, Mark,” he said. 

You can afford, to neglect business, for the 
sake of your old friend.” 

‘‘ I am glad to do so. Uncle Mark has 
been a father to me ; and I fully appreciate all 
his kindness. If I have seemed wanting in 


104 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


attention to him, it has been through no fault 
of mine.” 

‘‘ I am glad to hear that. I thought all the 
time, that your heart was in the right place. 
You used to be a good nurse, and you must 
try your skill again. You like to have Mark 
with you,” added the doctor, turning to his 
patient. 

A closer clasping .of the strong, supple 
hand, which the invalid still held in his own, 
answered this. A moment after, however, the 
hand was released, and some incoherent 
words gasped forth. Bring — box — drawer 
— key — ” were all which could be under- 
stood. 

‘‘ Something is wanted,” said Dr. Graves. 

Do you wish me to bring your ebony 
box ? ” asked Mark. 

Bring it, ; — Key.” 

I know where you have always kept the 
key. Doctor, will you remain here until I 
come back ? ” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


105 


“ Certainly,” was the reply, and the physi- 
cian sat where he could watch the countenance 
of his friend. There is something you wish 
to say.” 

Yes,” gasped the old man. 

Then take time. Don’t feel in a hurry. 
Wait till Mark comes back. He will under- 
stand you better than I can,” said the doctor. 

Alfred Hanson did not move. His face 
paled and flushed with emotion ; yet there he 
stood, not far from the bed ; although he 
would gladly have followed Mark, could he 
have done so without creating suspicion of 
his motives. 

Short time had he for consideration. The 
box was brought. The invalid extended his 
half-palsied hand, raised his head slightly from 
the pillow, and tlien fell back, as a stream 
of blood flowed from his mouth. 

“ Too late ! ” exclaimed Dr. Graves. What- 
ever he would have said, must now remain 
forever unsaid, in this world.” 


106 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


One single look of consciousness was given, 
and before the family could be summoned, 
the last struggle was over. In the presence 
of witnesses, Mark Dunning returned the 
ebony box to its accustomed place ; and then, 
as others crowded around, to perform the last 
sad of&ces, he went away by himself, where he 
could indulge his grief without restraint. 

There was some pretence of consulting him 
in regard to the funeral obsequies, while in 
reality, Mrs. Hanson and her son took the 
matter into their own hands. Friends were 
invited, and nothing was wanting of outward 
respect for him who had passed away. 

Before the relatives separated, the last will 
and testament of the deceased was read, this 
instrument bearing date scarcely six months 
previous. By its conditions, Alfred Hanson 
came into possession of The Oaks, with a 
large part of his uncle’s remaining property. 
Mark Dunning was to receive a legacy of One 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


107 


Thousand Dollars, Mrs. Dean the same,, and 
several others, smaller sums. 

Most of those present were astonished at 
the disposition of this property, and not a few 
believed that the old gentleman had been un- 
duly influenced. Of th>3, they were quite cer- 
tain, when in the examination of the papers, 
another will, drawn up some years 'previous, 
was found, which made Mark Dunning resid- 
uary legatee and proprietor of The Oaks. 
The last executed will was in the ebony box, 
which the deceased had desired to be brought 
to him. 

• To say that the young lawyer was indiffer- 
ent to the change in his prospects, would not 
be true ; yet, making no complaint, he left his 
old quarters, and established himself else- 
where. Alfred Hanson hoped he would leave 
the village ; but this he did not seem inclined 
to do. 

In process of time, the estate was settled, 


108 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


the legacies paid, and The Oaks formally 
transferred to their new owner, who spared 
no effort to render himself popular with his 
townsmen. He was affable, courteous, and 
obliging. If he did not entertain company as 
his hospitality prompted, it was from respect 
to his deceased uncle ; and all who came were 
welcomed. His mother had never appeared 
to such advantage, as when, after, the de- 
parture of Mrs. Dean, she assumed the entire 
management of the household. 

Grace Barnes was still a favorite ; and, at 
length, ignoring the fact of her engagement, 
while presuming upon his wealth and position,* 
Alfred Hanson asked her to share his home. 
Her answer was what might have been ex- 
pected, but the suitor knowing how much 
could sometimes be accomplished by perse- 
verance and adroit management, ventured a 
remark reflecting upon his rival. Quick to 
take offence at this, the young girl replied in 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


109 


a way which compelled him to apologize in 
such manner that she could not but accord 
him pardon. ‘‘ I pray you still to consider 
•me your friend/’ he said at parting. If I 
have offended, it has been because of my 
great disappointment in the denial of my 
fondest hopes.” 

After this Grace Barnes warned her lover 
against Alfred Hanson, as one who would be 
sure fo injure him if possible ; and the -young 
man could not long remain in ignorance of 
the true state of affairs. 

You might be mistress of The Oaks even 
now,” he said somewhat bitterly. 

I hope I shall be mistress when you are 
master,” she replied, smiling. Until then 
I am content to dwell in a cottage.” 

And she did dwell in a cottage ; the same 
so long occupied by her mother, for two years 
after Mark Dunning called her wife. There, 
her first born child was laid in her arms, and 


110 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


the years were happy ; so happy that their 
memory lingered through all the darker ones 
which followed. Then a larger house was 
purchased and still tliey prospered ; until in 
an evil hour the hjisband and father yielded 
to the fascinations of the wine cup. 

Less strong and- less mindful to resist 
temptation than he had been before, foolishly 
indulging with Alfred Hanson, he had not 
considered it necessary that he should abstain 
entirely from stimulants. For years he drank 
only with others ; but there came a time when 
this occasional indulgence did not satisfy the 
cravings of his appetite, and he had fallen 
through all the successive stages of degrada- 
tion, until guant poverty had entered his 
dwelling while the finger of scorn pointed at 
him as a drunkard. A fearful retrospect for 
one who sat alone communing with his own 
heart, and imploring strength from above. A 
dark record of desecrated talents and wasted 
time. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Ill 


What wonder that Mark Dunning clasped 
his hands in agony and prayed to forget ! 


CHAPTER III. 


Fearful and long the strife, 

When death makes war with life : 

The prize a human soul, 

Each struggles to control. 

RTHUR DUNNING held his father’s 
letter for a moment, hesitating to 
open it, lest his worst fears should 
be confirmed. To his surprise, how- 
ever, it contained but these words : 

My Dear Boy : 

I am resolved, God helping me, never to 
taste another drop of intoxicating liquor. 
Pray for me that I may have all needed 
strength. 

Your affectionate father, 

Mark Dunning. 



112 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


113 


This was better than the boy had dared to 

hope ; all he could have desired ; and instantl}^ 

his heart uttered the prayer which God alone 

could hear. He was so happy that nothing 

-> 

seemed hard. He could work or study with- 
out thought of fatigue ; and his great joy was 
so apparent, that one of the clerks said, “ I 
should think you had come into possession of 
a fortune, Dunning.” 

I have,” was the quick reply* 

‘‘ How much, all told ? ” 

I don’t know. It is not yet appraised. 
When it is, I will let you know.” 

All right. We’ll have a jubilee, when the 
figures are announced. I wish a fortune 
would come to me, if it would improve my 
looks as much as it has yours. I declare, 
Dunning, you are a handsome fellow. Don’t 
be too proud, though ; for pride must have a 
fall.” 

Little cared Arthur for all this. He was 


114 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


thinking what their home might be, and pray- 
ing, oh, so earnestly that their hopes might 
not be again dashed to the ground. 

His prayers ascended with those of others. 
All day had Mark Dunning written, his re- 
solve growing stronger, and his hand steadier, 
with each stroke of the pen. The friend who 
came early in the morning had hardly gone, 
when another presented himself; and so on 
through the day, until night. 

‘‘You have worked too steady,” said his 
wife, threading her fingers through his hair. 

“ I think not,” he replied, with a smile. 
“ I have worked no more steadily than you, 
and certainly, there is need. 1 am impatient 
of idleness. I should be glad to have no wak- 
ing hour unemployed.” 

At the same time this subject was being dis- 
cussed, some men, gathered in one of the 
village stores, were talking of the lawyer, ex- 
pressing their opinion in regard to him, and 
even venturing to predict his future course. 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


115 


I’ve seen him to-day, and I can tell you 
he’s in earnest, this time,” said one. He’ll 
do what he says.” 

How do you know that ? ” was asked, 
sharply. 

‘‘ Recause he has commenced right. He 
depends upon God, and not upon his own 
strength. If you could hear him talk as I 
have, you would have faith in him.” 

Where did you see him ? asked a grave 
looking man. 

At home,” was replied. I went there 
to get some writing done. I thought if he 
was trying to reform, I would give him a lift, 
and I’m glad I did. It wouldn’t he strange 
if he should make people open their eyes a 
little, at the next term of court.” 

“You don’t say anybody would trust him 
with a case ! ” 

“We can tell better about that when the 
time comes. We all know Mark Dunning is a 


116 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


good judge of law, and. can use his tongue to 
advantage.” 

That’s true,” was the response from more 
than one. “ He’s the smartest lawyer in the 
county. There aint one could begin with 
him, if he’d let drink alone.”^ 

Who is so mighty smart ? ” asked a new 
comer. 

“Ah! good evening, Mr. Giles. We were 
speaking of Mark Dunning,” was the reply. 

“ Well, what of him ? I wouldn’t waste 
much breath on that poor fellow. It aint 
much more than a week since he had a spree, 
went back to the old place and kicked up a 
row generally. He’s a miserable sot to make 
the best of him.” 

“ You may bo mistaken, Mr. Giles,” said 
one, and the tone implied more than the 
words. 

“ I hope I am ; but I have seen too much 
of him to have any confidence in him.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 117 

‘‘ It would go liard with Giles in his land 
case, if Mark should keep sober,” remarked a 
bystander, when the last speaker was well 
beyond hearing. 

‘‘ How so ? ” asked another. 

Why, you see Mark drew up the papers 
between old Giles and his wife, and if they 
aint produced there’ll be trouble. The land 
belonged to the old woman ; the Dunn place, 
you know, and she sold it to Conant. Now, 
Tom says she couldn’t give a deed of it that 
was worth anj^thing ; so he has commenced 
a suit for the recovery of the land.” 

Tom Giles had heard enough to make him 
somewhat anxious ; and before leaving the 
village he spoke to several men in regard to* 
Mark Dunning ; and much to his surprise, 
nearly all expressed the belief that the lawyer 
wouW yet redeem himself. Dr. Graves had 

I 

taken care to give publicity to his opinion ; 
and others were willing to spread the good 


news. 


118 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Alfred Hanson had doubts which he ex- 
pressed with great show of regret for the 
necessity of so doing. There is little hope 
for one who has fallen so low,” he said. I 
wish he might reform. No one would rejoice 
more sincerely than myself. He bears the 
name of a good man.” 

Only a month before the next session of 
court, and as this was the county town, the 
cases to be tried were already under consider- 
ation. Giles counted on an easy victory ; if, 
indeed, Mrs. Conant should attempt any de- 
fence. Three lawyers were retained on his 
side, and he had been confident of success. 
But to use his own expression, when speaking 
to one of his counsel, things began to look 
squally.” 

In some way Mark Dunning must be 
kept back ; ” and then lie added a remark in 
a tone which was scarcely audible. 

Perhaps that might be managed if worst 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


119 


comes to worst,” was the reply. It would 
be rather too bad, though. I always liked 
Dunning. He was ready to give others a fair 
chance, and it would be hard to put him 
down so,, if he is trying to get up.” 

All things are fair in law,” said Giles 
with a wicked leer. This must be done 
some way. I’m bound to have that land, and 
Mark Dunning shan’t stand in my way.” 

Did a bird of the air whisper this, or did 
Dr. Graves so read the signs of the times that 
he could predict what would be V 

For four weeks, each day had been a holiday 
in Mark Dunning’s family. They rose in 
the morning with jubilant hearts and lay 
down to rest at night thankful and happy. 
During this time Arthur spent one Sabbath 
at home, and then the circle complete, they 
knelt together, while the husband and father 
implored God’s blessing upon each and all. 
He prayed also for strength and wisdom, that 


120 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


in the hour of temptation he might not fall. 
Angels must have rejoiced at sight of this 
* kneeling group, and shouted the glad tidings 
that one more wanderer had returned to the 
Master’s fold. 

‘‘ 0, father, I am perfectly happy,” ex- 
claimed Arthur. I know everything will go 
right now.” 

I hope so, my son ; but I am very weak. 
God grant you may never know, by experi- 
ence, how weak. It is a fearful thing to be 
such a slave to appetite as I have been ; and, 
even now, I tremble at the tl) ought of once 
more mingling with men, and being exposed 
to temptation. I may fall, when I least ex- 
pect it.” 

Oh, no, father, that cannot be. Now that 
you know the danger — ” 

I have always known it,” interrupted 
Mr. Dunning. Do you think I have been 
unmindful of my degradation ? However much 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


121 


my family have suffered, I have suffered in- 
finitely more. I would rather die than * drink 
again; and yet — yet — God only knows. 
0 Arthur, never, never taste of wine. It is 
the first glass which works- one’s ruin,* and it 
is so easy to refuse. It requires only a little 
decision and moral courage.” 

‘‘ You need have no fears for me,” replied 
the boy. Mother has talked to me about 
drinking, ever since I can remember ; and 
before I left home, I promised her I would 
never taste any intoxicating liquor, or use 
any tobacco. I have kept that promise for a 
year, and I shall keep it to the end of my 
life.” 

And Barton, how is it with you ? ” 

‘‘ I do just as brother Arthur does,” was 
the reply. He tells me all about it, and I 
don’t drink cider, because he said I better 
not.” 

Grace, who had been assisting her mother 


122 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


ill the household work, came in soon after 
this, hnd Barty, vacating his favorite seat, 
said, You can sit in father’s lap. I guess 
you ought to, because you’re a girl, and so 
pretty,” he added, looking up into his sister’s 
face with an expression of such honest admi- 
ration, that it provoked a smile. 

Grace accepted the proffered seat gladly, 
but she had no time to think of the compli- 
ment. In her coaxing way, she asked her 
father if he would do just what she wanted 
him to. 

“ I will try,” he answered. What is it 
you desire ? ” 

‘‘We all want you to go to church with us 
to-day,” she replied, at the same time laying 
her hand over his mouth, that he might 
not speak without consideration. “ You will, 
won’t you, dear father ? It will make us so 
happy, and I know it will do you good.” 

It was more than five years since Mark 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


123 


Duimiiig had entered the house of God, or 
listened to a sermon. He intended to accom- 
pany his family to church ; but was not ready 
to do so now. He wished to test the strength 
of his resolution, and, until more fully estab- 
lished in his new position, preferred the seclu- 
sion of home. His wife had not mentioned 
the subject of church going, although she had 
done what she could to put his wardrobe in a 
presentable condition, and was very anxious 
that they should worship once more together. 

Grace waited for a reply, pleading, mean- 
while, “ Don’t say no, father. Please go with 
us this morning.” 

‘‘ I should be glad to grant your request, 
my dear child,” he said, at length. But I 
believe I must wait until I have a new suit of 
clothes.” Then, seeing the regret expressed 
by the countenances of his children, he added, 
‘‘ I am sorry not to * gratify you. If my 
clothes were suitable, I really believe I would 
go.” 


124 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


‘‘Will you ,go, if mother says you look nice 
enough ? ” asked Grace. 

“ Yes,” he answered, decidedly. 

, Mother was called, and after some discus- 
sion, it was decided that it would be best to 
go. Not elegantly dressed was any member 
of this family ; but when once the services 
commenced, they forgot the worshipping 
assembly, and thought only of the good news 
of great joy, which had been vouchsafed to 
man. 

The clergyman had chosen for his theme 
the parable of “ The Prodigal Son,” and from 
it he deduced the strongest proofs of God’s 
infinite mercy. Repent and return ; so 
shall you be saved,” said the good man. “ As 
he loveth most to whom most is forgiven, let 
no one despair of happiness. 

“ God giveth his grace gladly, giveth his 
strength freely, and saves us not only from 
the punishment of our sins, but from our sins 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


125 


themselves. Looking to him for aid, we eaii 
resist temptation, and strong in the power of 
his might, we can come off conqueror, through 
him who loveth us.” 

These words, so full of consolation to one 
struggling to rise above the allurements of 
evil, were like a direct message from God, to 
Mark Dunning. He no longer doubted or 
feared. He could ^ he would prevail. It 
seemed so easy then. Would it ever again 
seem difficult ? ” 

Service over, his children stopped for Sab- 
bath School, while he and his wife walked 
slowly homeward ; not, however, until many 
had grasped his hand, and expressed pleasure 
at seeing him. 

Alfred Hanson attended church that morn- 
ing, and was, perhaps, with the exception of 
Tom Giles, the only member of the congrega- 
tion who regretted the presence of his cousin, 
as he was sometimes pleased to call the 


126 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


lawyer. It looked too much like radical re- 
form ; yet he was careful to say in a loud 
tone, that the sermon had been well chosen, 
and he hoped ^it would have its legitimate 
effect. ‘‘ If one could be reclaimed, Mr. Ware 
would feel repaid for the labor bestowed upon 
his sermon.*’ 

Mark Dunning read the parable, and on 
bended knees, prayed that he might be 
allowed to serve in his Father’s house. 

I am thankful that I heard that sermon,” 
he said to his wife. ‘‘ If Mr. Ware had pre- 
pared it expressly for me, it could not have 
been more appropriate.” 

Shall you go this afternoon ? ” 

Yes, Grace, I shall. It would be a great 
self-denial to remain away. It was not so 
hard to meet the people as I thought it would, 
be. This morning it seemed impossible.” 

Everything was pleasant ; and the day 
proved to be one of greater happiness than 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


127 


Arthur had anticipated. In the evening, 
when speaking of his own prospects, he ex- 
pressed so much satisfaction that his father 
asked him if he preferred work to study. 

“ No, sir,” was the quick reply. But I 
manage to study some every day, and what I 
learn without a teacher I shall be sure to re- 
member. I think I am getting along very 
well with Latin.” 

‘‘ I am glad to hear that,” said Mr. Dun- 
ning. “ But don’t overtax yourself. I hope 
to see you in school again before next year at 
this time. You would like that.” 

‘‘ Yes, sir, if the rest could have what they 
need.” 

‘‘ They can have it. They shall have it. I 
am beginning life anew, and — and — ” 

Oh, how weak he was ! Only to think of 
the temptations to which he might be ex- 
posed, made him tremble. He had fallen so 
many times. But his family would not let 


128 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


him think of this. Divining his thoughts, 
they spoke so hopefully that he caught some- 
thing of their spirit. 

Early dawn . saw Arthur on his way back 
to labor and duty. The whole family had 
breakfasted with him, and he left them with 
many a lingering look at the humble cottage. 

A long day before us,” said Mark Dun- 
ing as he turned back into the house after 
watching his boy until quite out of sight. I 
think a little exercise would do me good,” 
and for half an hour he made vigorous. use 
of woodsaw and ax. 

It was necessary that some groceries should 
be purchased for the family. Mrs. Dunning 
had attended to this for several years ; partly 
because she was less lavish in expenditure 
than her husband, and partly because she 
would give him no excuse for entering any 
place where he could obtain intoxicating 
drink. She had intended sending Arthur to 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


129 


the grocery Saturday evening ; but he was 
too late for this. 

‘‘ What is it ? ’’ asked Mark Dunning, ob- 
serving the perplexed look of his wife as he 
entered the kitchen. 

‘‘We shall need some coffee and flour to- 
day,” she answered, smiling. 

“ Well, there is money enougli to pay for 
them, is there not ? ” 

“ Yes, money enough to pay for them twice 
over, if we could only get them here.” 

“ That is easily done. I will go over to 
Stone’s and order them as soon as it is time 
for the store to be open. You won’t be afraid 
to trust me.” 

One glance in his face and the reply was 
quickly made. “ No, I am not afraid to trust 
you.” 

“ Is there nothing else wanted ? ” he asked. 

“ Nothing else which we must have.” 

“ How is it about the sugar bucket, tea 


130 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


caddy, and various other pantry conve- 
niences ? ” 

In tolerable condition, for the present. 
With coffee and flour, I shall manage to pro- 
vide table comforts, for several days to come.” 

Just then, it seemed to her that nothing was 
needed, now that her husband’s voice had the 
old ring. • 

“Well, then, coffee and flour it is,” he 
said. “ I shall be back soon.” 

Down the village street he walked, past his 
former lounging places, without so much as a 
glance at them. The landlord of tlie hotel, 
who was out early upon business, met him 
with a hearty good morning. 

“ Good morning, sir,” was the reply. 

“ Rather a sharp morning,” the landlord 
continued. “ Won’t you come in ? ” 

“ No, thank you. I have no time to stop.” 

“ It’s true. That man is in earnest, and 
I’m glad of it, if I do lose a customer. If I 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


131 


was ill Mark Diinniiig’s place, I’d show folks 
how things are done, and I shouldn’t wonder 
if that’s just what lie means to do.” 

Thus soliloquised the landlord ; quite sure 
that his conclusions were correct, when he 
saw the lawyer enter the store of Mr. Stone. 

As the merchant was at leisure, there was 
an opportunity for conversation. “ I saw you 
at church,” he remarked. 

Yes, I was out all day, and liked your 
minister very much,” wasj^he reply. 

‘‘ Was it the first time you have heard 
him?” 

The first time I have heard him preach. 
I don’t intend, however, that it shall be the 
last.” 

“ I hope not,” replied the merchant. “ His 
sermons do me so much good, that I want 
everybody else to hear them. By Saturday 
night, I begin to feel that life is pretty up hill 
work ; but Mr. Ware makes me see what a 


132 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


true, strong friend I have in our dear elder 
brother, so that I am ready to commence 
another week with good heart.” 

‘‘ He made us see this friend, yesterday. 
The sermon in the morning' was just what I 
needed to hear.” 

Mr. Stone longed to say more, and after a 
little hesitation, he exclaimed, Mark Dun- 
ning, I want to tell you how glad and thank- 
ful I am that you are trying to reform. I 
don’t know but yogi’ll be offended at my speak- 
ing of it.” 

‘‘ Indeed I am not,” was the reply. “ I am 
glad you have spoken. I need all the help I 
can get, and all the prayers, too. I have a 
hard battle to fight ; and God only knows if 
I shall win.” 

God knows you will win, if you trust him 
for grace and strength,” said Mr. Stone. 

We all need his aid, to keep us in the right 
way.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


133 


Some, more than others, and I most of 

all.” 

Hardly that, my friend. There are many 
worldly considerations which must have a 
strong influence over you. I used to think 
you were ambitious, and thought that might 
prove your besetting sin.” 

I was ambitious,” responded Mark Dun- 
ning. I fancied I might win the breath of 
popular applause, and I fully intended to 
make myself worthy of respect.” 

You may do all that now,” said his friend. 

And what is better, you may win the 
approval of God.” 

I hope and pray that I shall. Remember 
me in your prayers, Mr. Stone.” 

I will,” returned the Christian merchant. 
“ I did remember you in my prayers, last 
evening. And now, what can I do for you in 
my line, this morning ? ” 

Several pounds of cofiee and a barrel of 
flour were bought, 


134 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


“ Is that all, Ml*. Dunning ? ” 

Yes,” and the purchaser took out his 
pocket-book, to pay for the articles. 

If not perfectly convenient for you to 
spare the money this morning, I will charge 
them, and whatever else you may wish,” said 
Mr. Stone. 

Thank you,” was the really grateful 
reply. “ It is not necessary for me to take 
advantage of your kindnQss now, but I may be 
glad# to do so at some other time. Good 
morning.’’ 

People looked from their windows to see 
Mark Dunning, as he passed ; and one old 
man, who had known and loved him from 
boyhood, rapped to call his attention, and 
then beckoned him into the house. 

Good morning. Uncle John,” said the 
younger man, as he entered a pleasant room, 
where sat his old friend. 

Good morning, Mark. I want you to 
come close to me, so I may get a look at you. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


135 


I saw you yesterday, and I prayed for you. 
I’ve heard about you, too, and I want to tell 
you how glad I am you are beginning to pros- 
per again. I won’t keep you any longer, for 
I know you was hurrying home when I called 
you ; but God bless you, Mark. God bless 
you. Come in and see me sometimes.” 

‘‘ Yes, Uncle John. Thank you for your 
prayers and good wishes.” 

Mrs. Dunning was feeling a little anxious 
ill regard to her husband ; but the first 
glimpse she caught of him reassured her. 
He was walking rapidly and she turned to 
her work. 

“ My morning’s walk has done me good,” 
he said. I haven’t felt so well for the last 
ten years. Do you suppose we can grow 
young again, Grace ? ” 

“• Yes, indeed,” answered the happy wife. 
‘‘ I am drinking of the fabled elixir of 
youth.” 


136 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


“ 1 believe you, my dear, and I — well, we 
shall see.” 

If the other lawyers of the village had as 
much business as came to Mark Dunning that 
week, they could not reasonably complain. 
It seemed as though people bought and sold 
for the purpose of giving him employment. 
Mrs. Conant visited him more for the pleasure 
of so doing, than because her ^business de- 
manded it. 

By this time Tom Giles was on the alert ; 
scheming with base cunning to accomplish 
his ends. ‘‘ I don’t believe Dunning’s good 
fit will last three weeks longer,” he said to 
his lawyer. 

I don’t know about that,” was the reply. 

Everything looks fair on his side. He 
seldom goes out of the house, and if reports 
are true he has as much writing as he can do. 
He’ll give the rest of us a run if he 
keeps on.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 137 

‘‘ He won’t keep on. He’s tried it before a 
good many times, and always gone back. If 
he had a glass of wine before him it would 
settle his case quick. Why don’t you invite 
him to come in some evening and talk the 
matter over. I could manage it if I was in 
your place.” 

Ho you mean that you would manage to 
get him to drink a glass of liquor, Mr. 
Giles ? ” 

I mean that I would give him a chance 
to drink if he wants to,” was the heartless 
reply. “ I don’t want him interfering with 
my business.” 

‘‘ But Mrs. Conant has a right to defend the 
suit you have brought against her.” 

I suppose she has, and I’ve a right to the 
case if I can get it. Are you going to help 
me ? ” 

In any fair way,” replied the lawyer. 

‘‘ Muttering to himself Tom Giles left the 


138 


MARK DUNNINCx’S ENEMY. 


office, and the next day invited a large number 
of the people to visit at his house Christmas 
evening. Among those invited were Mr. 
Dunning and wife. 

Tom has an ax to grind, as Uncle Mark 
used to say ; and as I have no fancy for turn- 
ing the stone I think we will -stay at home,” 
remarked the lawyer. 

‘‘ That will be the best way,” replied his 
wife. But don’t let us do him injustice by 
suspecting his motives.” 

‘‘ Spoken like yourself, Grace ; and we will 
give him the benefit of the doubt while we 
keep at a safe distance.” 

Mr. Giles was a wealthy farmer, who, to his 
other faults never added a want of hospitali- 
ty ; but this Christmas feast was intended to 
eclipse any previous entertainment. There 
was wine for those who wished it ; with no 
lack of other drinks, which cheer, but not 
inebriate. The host had the pleasure of 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


189 


knowing that his expenditure was appreci- 
ted ; yet he was far from being satisfied. Tlie 
man whose presence he most desired had 
politely excused himself in a way which left 
no opportunity for remonstrance. 

At home, with his family, Mark Dunning 
found happiness where was no danger. Not 
having been in the way of temptation, he 
could hardly calculate his powers of resist- 
ance ; yet often his spirits flagged, and. his 
system craved the accustomed stimulant. 
Often a terrible thirst seemed consuming 
him ; while a mad fever raged in his veins ; 
but through all he cried, God help me,” and 
thus far his prayer had been answered. 

He found himself, too, surrounded with 
friends who gave him the substantial sympa- 
thy he needed. Dr. Graves advised him from 
time to time in regard to the diet and regi- 
men best calculated to restore a healthy tone 
to stomach and brain : and die had suffered 


140 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


less than many under similar circumstances. 
It was long since he had known the pleas- 
ure of bestowing a gift upon any one ; but 
this Christmas each member of his family 
received some token of his affectionate inter- 
est. These of course could not be expensive, 
but they were such as would contribute to 
comfort or improvement. Arthur’s present, 
which had been forwarded to him by stage, 
was a book he had long desired to possess ; 
and no gift could have been more welcome. 

Time sped on until the day for the opening 
of court, whon Mark Dunning took his place 
with other members of the bar by whom he 
was cordially greeted. Knowing that his 
whole future depended upon the result of this 
session, he was resolved to do his best. Dis- 
sipation had not given him the bloated face 
and figure which mark so many of its vic- 
tims ; and no one would have suspected the 
depths into whicU he had fallen. Tom Giles 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


141 


had not Withdrawn his case, although every 
one said he was sure to be beaten. Yet he, 
with the obstinacy which characterized him, 
and still hoping that something would turn 
up in his favor, refused to entertain the idea 
of defeat. He watched Mark Dunning close- 
ly ; calculating the strength and resolution so 
legibly written on the pale face. For the 
first time this unjust claimant feared for the 
result of his suit ; and wondered if he could 
compromise the matter without loss to him- 
self. With Mrs. Conant alone he might have 
succeeded ; but it was too late to apply to her 
now. He could manage that the trial be 
postponed to another term ; but this did not 
suit his plans. He wanted the Dunn lot and 
intended to have it at some price before 
another spring. It was near the village and 
a good location for a house. 

I’ll wait awhile and see how things go,” 
he said to himself. Dunning will be invited 


142 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


to the hotel with the other lawyers, and then 
there will be a chance for him.” 

The first week passed and nothing had 
occurred in his favor. His council was not 
disposed to aid him in the way he had sug- 
gested. The second week one of the officers 
of the court invited some friends to spend 
the evening with him in his room at the 
hotel. Of course Mark Dunning was in- 
cluded ; his social qualities having formerly 
rendered him a valuable accession to any 
company. 

He knew perfectly well the programme of 
the evening. There would be cards and 
wine ; some intelligent conversation witli many 
jokes and humorous stories. Should he go ? 
Once he would not have hesitated. 

It was long since he had stood an equal 
among his professional brethren ; and tlie 
‘‘ Don’t fail to come, Dunning,” which supple- 
mented the invitation . was very grateful to 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


143 


him. He might go yet not taste of wine ; 
and for the moment he thought he could do 
this. He was anxious to reinstate himself in 
the good opinion of people outside his own 
town, and if he should publicly refuse to 
drink, it might be of great advantage to him. 

Thus he reasoned, walking slowly, his eyes 
fixed upon the ground, thinking so intently 
that he started with some surprise when the 
doctor addressed him. 

Glad to see you,” said his old friend. 

Glad to see you. I suppose you are enjoy- 
ing life just now.” 

Yes, sir, very well,” was the reply ; but 
the tone in which this was said lacked hearti- 
ness. 

‘‘ What is it, Mark ? Something troubles 
you. Is anything wrong ? ” 

No, sir,” and now the response was made 
with decision. “I was only considering 
where it is best to spend the evening.” 


144 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Away from temptation,” said the doctor, 
instantly. 

‘‘ You are right,” was the exclamation 
which greeted this. The question is settled, 
and Lawrence must miss me from his party. 
I am glad I met you. Thank you for your 
advice.” 

I expected Dunning here this evening,” 
said Sheriff Lawrence after the arrival of 
others whom he had invited. “ I am sorry 
he disappointed me.' It has been so long 
since he hiet with us I thought he would like 
to come, and I, for one, wanted to show him 
that I could forget the past. He is looking 
well, now.” 

‘‘ Yes,” replied another. With the ex- 
ception of being rather pale, he looks as well 
as ever. I’m glad to see him back in his old 
place ; though he’ll give the rest of us a try 
if he sticks to his text.” 

What is his text ? ” 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


145 


‘‘ Total abstinence,” was the reply. 

‘‘ Has he come to that ? ” asked the sheriff. 

That is going rather too far for me. I be- 
lieve in temperance ; but I do enjoy a glass of 
wine occasionally with my friends.” 

‘‘ We all know that, Lawrence ; and here 
followed a series of jokes which might have 
been brilliant when uttered, without being 
worthy of repetition. 

There were cards ; there was wine ; and 
each one present drained his glass. Had 
Mark Dunning made one of the party, his fall 
would have been certain. If others could 
drink moderately, he could not. His breath 
came thick and fast as he realized this ; and 
saw with clear vision how near he had stood 
to the brink of a precipice. 

There would have been no more hope for 
you had you gone to the hotel,” said his wife. 

This evening would have sealed your fate.” 

I hope it has sealed it,” was the reply. 


146 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


But it’s terrible to shut one’s self out from 
society because too weak to resist evil. I am 
not sure that I am worth saving after all,” 
he added, with a sickly smile. 

But I am sure,” whispered she who 
looked up into his face with such sweet confi- 
dence that he called her his good angel. 
‘‘ You mpst not slander my husband. I have 
faith in him.” 

“Then I will never despair again,” he 
answered. “ Home shall be my refuge.” 

The next day, when asked why he had not 
spent the previous evening at the hotel, he 
replied frankly, that he could not trust him- 
self to do so. “ You can drink moderately,’.’ 
he said to the sheriff. “ I drink immoderately 
if I drink at all, and I supposed you would 
furnish wine for your guests.” 

“ I did ; but I would not have -urged you to 
drink. You could have done as you pleased.” 

“ For all that it would have been a hard 
place for one like me.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


147 


‘‘ Then I am glad you did not come,” re- 
sponded Mr. Lawrence. “ I wish to see you 
prosper and fill the position for which you 
are fitted. If there is but one road to success 
for you, I bid you God speed in that.” 

Yet it did seem to the speaker that a man 
might set bounds to his indulgence, without 
foregoing entirely the pleasures of the social 
glass. He advocated this for many years ; 
but, alas for his theory, he died a drunkard. 

The land case was called. Tom Giles’ 
council made the most of the material in 
their possession ; and everything looked fair 
to those who knew nothing beyond their state- 
ments. 

Mark Dunning rose slowly, spoke for a few 
minutes, and then unfolded some papers 
which he proceeded to read. These papers 
had been drawn up by himself about sixteen 
years before ; and were obtained from a rela- 
tive of the late Mrs. Giles. Her avaricious 


148 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


step son knew that such papers had once 
existed ; but supposed them to have been lost 
or destroyed. It did seem so for a time, 
when the niece of Mrs. Giles to whom her 
personal property had been willed, declared 
she had made most diligent search without 
finding them. Mr. Dunning did not consider 
them absolutely essential to the interests of 
his client ; as he believed he could produce 
such evidence and make such plea as would 
carry the jury ; yet a few days before the case 
was to come on he went again to the house 
of Miss Dustin. 

Are you quite sure that every bag, box, 
bundle and trunk that was your aunt’s has 
been examined,” he asked. 

I aint quite sure,” answered the niece 
after some hesitation. ‘‘I thought I had' 
ransacked everything ; but seems to me there 
was an old trunk brought here that I haint 
seen lately. It must be under the eaves, in 



'I’HE Mrssi.xc. Papers. Page 149. 








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MAUK DUISNING S ENEMY. 


149 


the garret if anywhere. I’ll go and look this 
very minute.” 

There was the trunk containing newspa- 
pers, scraps of books, rags, two or three 
tracts, a broken tumbler, some worn gar- 
ments ; and, buried beneath all, wrapped in 
several folds of cloth, a package tied with 
faded ribbon. 

There,” exclaimed the woman rushing 
down stairs in great haste. That’s all I 
can find, except rags and rubbish. You can 
see what that is.” 

The papers were found at last, and when 
read in court, Mrs. Conant’s claim to the 
land was substantiated beyond a doubt. Her 
lawyer, too, was once more brought into 
notice. 

Alfred Hanson had listened with mingled 
feelings ; half envying, half fearing the man 
he had wronged. That evening he heard his 
daughter say, Grace Dunning wore a new 


150 


MARK DUNNING S ENMIY. 


dress to school to-daj ; and she looked so 
pretty everybody praised her.” 

This was told to Walter ; who replied, “ I 
guess their father is getting rich, 
wears better clothes than he used to, and he 
had on some new boots to-day. I’m glad of 
it, too. He’s just the best boy ; and I’m 
almost glad he got the prize instead of me. 
There was a real hard question in our arith- 
metic lesson, yesterday ; and he showed me 
about it, so I didn’t miss. I like him.” . f 
Wlio is it, you like? ’’asked Mrs. Han- 
son. 

“ Barty Dunning,” was the reply. 

Dear me, those Dunnings ! It does seem 
as though you children were bewitched with 
them. I wish they would leave town.” 

In his own room John Forbes was talking 
of the law suit, and complimenting Mark’s 
appearance in the court room. It’s a fact 
that he never looked as well to me as he did 
to-day.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


151 


‘‘ He looks older than he ought to at his 
age,” replied Mrs.- Forbes. 

‘‘ I don’t know about that. He has 
changed a‘ good deal in the last three or four 
weeks. How long is it since you saw him ? ” 

“ I saw him at church last Sabbath.” 

“ But you must see him when he is talking 
to know how he really looks. Suppose we go 
over there this evening. The walking is 
good ; and there is nothing to prevent.” 

Mrs. Forbes and Mrs. Dunning were 
cousins ; and as they had maintained an inti- 
mate acquaintance through all their varying 
fortunes, they met cordially. 

“ We have* come to congratulate you,” said 
the visitor, before laying aside her cloak and 
hood. ‘ I’ve enquired about you whenever 
there was an opportunity, and I’ve heard 
nothing but good.” 

'^‘We have nothing but good here, now,” 
replied the happy wife. 


152 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


And I am trying to be a good husband,” 
added Mark. f have been bad so long that 
to do good now, is quite a wonder.” 

“ Well, it is never too late to mend,” was 
the reply. “ I’ve been looking for a change 
in you.” 

And I have hoped for one. I have al- 
ways hoped I should reform.” 

“ What do you mean by that ? ” asked Mr. 
Forbes. 

Mean just what I say,” answered his host, 
emphatically. ‘‘ Do you suppose I was satis- 
fied to live and die a drunkard ? No, indeed, 
I was not ; and I doubt if any one, who re- 
alizes what life is, ever reaches a point where 
he is satisfied to continue in drunkenness. I 
have seen plenty of men degraded almost to 
brutishness, who bewailed their fate, in agony, 
when sober. You don’t understand this, 
friends, and I trust you never will. But I’ll 
not hold forth on the subject. I am glad to 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 158 

see you this evening ; and I am sure that my 
wife is. As for the children, they are always 
glad to see Uncle John and Aunt Sarah.” 

Uncle John was a man of practical good 
sense, and a broad charity which led him to 
overlook faults in others, he would not have 
tolerated in himself. While many had con- 
demned Mark Dunning without mercy, he 
pitied one whose fine organization made him 
all the more liable to excesses. 

You are through with Tom Giles, now, I 
expect,” he remarked, laughing. 

1 suppose so, although he looks dissatis- 
fied with what I have done,” was the reply. 
‘‘ He was disappointed.” 

‘‘ Yes, that is plain to be seen. Those 
papers were a surprise to him.” 

They were to me in one way, when I re- 
ceived them a few days ago,” said the lawyer. 
‘^Miss Dustin thought she had made thorough 


search for them before.” 


154 


MARK running’s ENEMY. 


‘‘ And what if you had not found them ? ” 

I should have trusted to some* evidence I 
could bring forward ; and, most of all to a 
lawyer’s wit. 1 should have argued the case 
to the best of my ability.” 

Then I almost wish the papers had gone, 
clear. It would have been a great thing for 
you to gain the case by your wit, as you call 
it.” 

Yes, it would. But I trust there will be 
opportunity for the display of my powers in 
future. I am not going back, now, if God’s 
grace and a strong will can keep me in the 
right way.” 

It may seem strange to my readers that a 
father should speak so frankly of past mis- 
doings before his children ; but Mark Dun- 
ning chose to do this. Once, when his wife 
remonstrated with him, he replied to her, 
“ They have seen me in my degradation and 
I wish them to know all its horror. • Then, it 
is well for me to commit myself.” 


MARK DUNNINGS ENEMY.. 


155 


As usual, Mrs. Dunning wished to consult 
her cousin in regard to some, matter of 
household interest ; so they with the children 
remained in the kitchen while the gentle- 
men adjourned to the room which served 
as parlor, sitting-room and office, 

“ You are getting beyond my teaching, 
cousin Grace,’^ said kind Mrs. Forbes. 

Oh, no,” was the reply. I have had a 
great deal to learn ; but, even now, I know 
very little.” 

Barty stole his hand into his mother’s, 
looking a negative to this last remark ; while 
Grace said, We think mother knows almost 
everything.” 

So we think father does,” added Barty. 

We love him almost as well as we do 
mother. He is going to have Arthur come 
home and go to school next spring.” 

‘‘ Is that so ? ” asked the visitor. 

We hope to have him at home in the 


lo6 MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 

spring, if we prosper,” replied Mrs. Dunning, 
and everybody knew the full import of this 
last clause. If the father abstained from 
drinking, the son could again enter school. 

Various matters were discussed between 
Mark Dunning and his friend ; and after some- 
time had passed the former said, “ My great 
desire now, is to provide for Arthur’s educa- 
tion.” 

Then you don’t intend to keep him with 
Mr. Clement,” was the reply. 

‘‘Oh, no. It would be wrong for me to do 
that. He went there because it was neces- 
sary that somebody should earn money ; and 
he has done very well. But it isn’t the right 
place for him. Thanks to my wife’s good 
management and the kindness of our friends, 
we are not much in debt ; and as I have given 
up all my extravagant habits, I think we can 
take him home in the spring.” 

“ I hope you can,” said Mr. Forbes. “ If 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


157 


1 can help you in any way, you know I am 
ready to do it.” 

‘‘ I have learned that by experience ; and 
you may be sure that I am grateful. I liave 
never thanked you for that last night’s watcli- 
ing with me.” 

And I never wish to have you. Let us 
forget there was such a night.” 

It would not be best for me to forget it,” 
responded the lawyer. “ I need to remember 
it, with all its horrors. I have not spoken to 
Alfred Hanson since then. He seems to 
avoid me, passing by on the other side.” 

I suppose you are not troubled at that.” 

“ Not at all, although I am willing to speak 
with him. I know he has tried to injure me, 
but I hope to forgive him. He doesn’t look 
like a very happy man with all his wealth. I 
wouldn’t change places with him.” 

No more would I. He professes to be a 
friend to you, Mark ; told me some time ago 


158 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


to provide your family with anything they 
needed, and charge it to his account.” 

“ I’d starve before I’d receive help from 
him,” exclaimed the lawyer in an excited 
tone. ‘‘ How foolish I am,” he added, direct- 
ly after. There is no reason why Alfred 
Hanson should help me. I am able to pro- 
vide for my family and myself.” 

Of course you are. I suppose you will 
open an office right away.” 

‘‘ I am not quite sure ; but I rather think 
I shall wait until spring for that. It is better 
for me to be here at home, for the present. 
When I grow restless and feel the cravings 
of my old appetite, Grace knows how to calm 
me and set me right again. It will be 
soon enough for me to try my strength alone, 
when the spring opens. Until then, whoever 
wishes my services must come here.” 

But wouldn’t it be just as w^ell for you to 
have a little more confidence in yourself, and 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


159 * 


open an office this winter ? You would get 
more business in the village. I mean you 
would have more writing to do.” 

“ I suppose I should. My wife and I have 
talked that all over, and T guess she is in the 
right of it. If I should fall now, it would be 
the end* of me.” 

‘‘ Daughter Grace,” as her father called her, 
interrupted the conversation by bringing in 
some of Mrs. Conant’s Lemon Pippins. 

Nice apples,” said the visitor. 

u Yery nice,” replied his host. ‘‘ Accord- 
ing to the old fashion, I ought to give you 
some cider with them.” 

That used to be the orthodox drink, with 
apples,. but I seldom use any.” 

I never intend to taste any again.” 

Never ^ Mark ? ” 

‘‘ Never was the reply. Why, half a 
glass would drive me crazy. I haven’t al- 
lowed myself to taste of vinegar, since that 
horrid night.” 


160 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


“1 pity you, Mark,” said his friend. As 
I look at you, though I don’t see how you can 
need the pity of anybody.” 

Pray for me,” replied Mark Dunning. 
‘‘ That is the best thing you can do. I must 
fight the battle with my appetite, alone. If, 
when I was twenty years old, I could have 
been made to believe what I now know^ the 
record of my life would be very different. It 
saddens me to see so many of our young men 
going wrong. There are plenty who preach 
moderation ; and everybody despises drunken- 
ness ; but total abstinence is unpopular. 
•• 

There must be a change in public sentiment, 
before we can hope to make young men ivhat 
they should be.” 

Why don’t you deliver a temperance lec- 
ture, Mark ? You would speak to the pur- 
pose, and draw a full house.” 

I will wait a while for that ; wait until I 
have proved myself longer.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


161 


‘ Well, perhaps you are right. But if you 
were ready to speak now, I could give you a 
good text. You remember Ashley Gray ? ” 
a Yery ^ell. I attended school with him. 
Do you know anything of him ? ” 

I know that he committed suicide, last 
week.” 

‘‘ Then he must have been insane. Ashley 
Gray would never have done that, in the 
exercise of his reason.” 

I suppose you know he has been dissipated 
for the last few years,” remarked Mr. Forbes. 

‘‘ I didn’t know it had come to that,” was 
the reply. I knew he was a moderate 
drinker.” 

He was ; but went from bad to worse, 
until he became a perfect sot. He had an at- 
tack of delirium tremens, about a fortnight 
ago ; and after that lie was in a strange way, 
though nobody thought of his killing himself.” 

Poor fellow ! ” said Mark Dunning. And 
what becomes of his children ? ” 


162 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


‘‘I suppose they must take their chance. 
One thing is pretty sure. They can’t be any 
worse off than they have been. Gray abused 
them shamefully.” 

Then they can hardly mourn for him. I 
have never seen his wife, but I have hearol 
that she is a superior woman.” 

A broken-hearted woman.” 

‘‘ How many children did he leave ? ” asked 
his old schoolmate. 

Two, a boy and a girl. The boy found 
his father hanging dead, and cut him down, 
before calling assistance.” 

That was wonderful fortitude for a boy. 
Poor Ashley ! How much he must have suf- 
fered, before committing the desperate deed ! 
I know something of it. I have seen the time 
when I was so wretched, I would have taken 
my own life, if I had not feared to meet my 
judge.” 

Ah ! many a man, and woman, too, who is 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


163 


the slave of an appetite for strong drink, 

t , 

would shorten the period of their bondage, but 
for the fear of retribution hereafter. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Up from the depths, as year by year, 

One presses on, the heights appear. 

PRING had come. Snow lingered 
only in the shadow of fences, or in 
valleys where the sun’s rays had not 
yet penetrated. The trailing arbutis 
with its delicate blossoms, peeped through dry 
leaves and the mouse ear, known to botanist 
by a more pretentious name, spread wide its 
velvety leaves, and unfolded its chaliced 
flowers. Catkins adorned the willows ; and 
each maple twig blushed at touch of the sun’s 
warm rays ; while a stray robin occasionally 
enlivened the air with its song. 

The county town in which the scene of my . 

164 



> 


MARK DUJ^NING’S ENEMY. 


165 

story is laid was in a state of unusual activity. 
A new mill was in process of erection, several 
dwelling houses were to be in readiness for 
tenants before autumn, and altogether this 
little world seemed to be moving somewhat 
rapidly Business men who had been satis- 
fied to count their gains by hundreds, hoped 
at no distant day to find these gains increased 
tenfold.. A young physician sought his share 
of practice ; and there was some talk of there 
being room for another lawyer. 

• The lawyer came ; not from out of town ; 
but from an unpretending cottage within its 
limits. Mark Dunning.” The old sign 
had been repainted, and appeared once more 
in the place it had occupied ten years before. 

“ That’s settled now,” said an old man, 
shading his eyes to get a better view of the 
name opposite. “ I’ve been expecting Mark 
would come out again, and I’ll go right over 
now and see him. I hope he’ll g*et a fair 
share of business.” 


166 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


No fear but he will,” replied some one 
standing near. “ He has had more to do the 
last two months than any other lawyer in 
town, out of the way as he was. He’s a 
smart man. I always said that when he was 
doing his worst ; and now there’s a good 
prospect for him.” 

‘‘ Yes, he is smart. Just the man to be 
very good or very bad. I’ll go over and give 
him a word of encouragement. I used to 
think a good deal of him.” 

Come,” said the lawyer without raising* 
his eyes from the paper before him. “ Ah, 
good morning, Mr. Stiles,” he added, as the 
door opened, admitting a visitor. Take a 
seat. I am glad to see you.” 

wanted to see you. Squire,” was the 
somewhat hesitating reply. 

Anything I can do for you in my line ? ” 
I guess not. I aint much of a hand to 
go to law, and I’m getting too old to make 
bargains. I only came in as a friend.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


167 


Better yet,” was the response. I am 
always glad to see my friends.” 

1 wanted to tell you how glad I am to see 
your sign up again, and I hope you’ll pros- 
per,” said Mr. Stiles. “ 1 couldn’t say much 
more than that if I should stay and hinder 
you all day.” 

Don’t go yet, my friend. I am not very 
busy this morning, and if I was I could stop 
to talk with you. You seem like a link be- 
tween me and Uncle Mark.” 

Your Uncle Mark was a good man,” re- 
plied the visitor seating himself again. 

‘‘Yes, sir, he was ; and I intencj to do 
honor to his name yet.” 

“ I hope you will, an4 honor yourself,” was 
said, emphatically. “ I wish too, you would 
do something for the boys of our village. It 
paakes me feel bad to have them spend so 
much time round the tavern. It’s a bad placo 
for them.” 


1G8 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


Indeed, it is, Mr. Stiles.” I have learned 
that by experience.” 

Well,, can’t you do something about it, 
Mark ?” asked the old man, in his earnest- 
ness forgetting his usual respectful manner. 
“ There’s my daughter got a nice boy, if he’d 
keep away from places where liquor is sold. 
Can’t you talk to him ? I wish you would. 
It seems as though I couldn’t bear to have 
him a drunkard ; and he will be if he goes on. 
Can’t you do something to help me ? I didn’t 
think of saying anything about this when I 
came in, but seeing you here looking so, 
strong and bright made me think you might 
do something for John.” 

‘‘All right, Mr. Stiles. Come to me any 
time, when I can serve you. I will endeavor 
to see John, and talk with him.” 

After the visitor left, Mark Dunning dipped 
his pen, then leaned back in his chair and 
mused, until disturbed by some unusual sound, 
when he commenced to write. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


169 


A few raoriiings after this, it was discov- 
ered that the store of Mr. Leet had been 
entered during the night. Boxes, bags, bar- 
rels, and nearly everything movable were in 
just the places where they should not be. 
Tobacco was strewn along the counters, pipes 
were buried in sugar, and the shelves con- 
cealed by heavy festoons of cloth. 

In his indignation, the owner declared half 
the contents of his store had been stolen ; but, 
upon examination, this did not prove to be 
true. The money drawer, in which some 
change had been left, was not robbed ; and, 
indeed, nothing seemed to be really injured. 

Somebody was in search of fun, and so 
spent the night upsetting things, generally,” 
remarked one of the bystanders. 

‘‘ Somebody ! ” repeated Mr. Leet. “ I tell 
you there was more than one engaged in this 
business ; and a good time they must have 
had of it. Any way. I’ll make them pay for 
their fun.” 


170 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


Don’t be too hard, Leet,” responded the 
wag of the village. Pretty likely you primed 
them for the job. You should put a little 
more water with your liquor, so it wouldn’t 
have so bad an effect. If it was all water, it 
wouldn’t do any hurt.” 

The grocer winced, but none the less was 
he determined to bring the offenders to jus- 
tice. Every boy who came in was questioned, 
to no purpose. Astonished looks, too well 
worn to be feigned, showed that they knew 
nothing of the affair. 

Guess you’ll have to try the men next,” 
said one. 

Men ! ” repeated the angry grocer, with a 
sneer. You don’t catch men moving boxes, 
and barrels, just for the fun of it. I’m pretty 
sure who the rogues are, and if I’m not mis- 
taken, they’ll find themselves in a tight place, 
before night.” 

Don’t threaten, Leet. Let the boys off 
easy. They may make good customers for 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


171 


you ; and it’s best to have an eye to business. 
Take my advice, and keep cool.” 

“ Here’s a jacknife,” cried the clerk, who 
had stumbled upon it, while arranging some 
boxes. 

Whose is it ? Whose is it ? ” 

Don’t know, yet. Here’s a name scratched 
on it, though. John Welcome.” 

I thought so,” responded Leet. Give 
me the knife. I shall have a use for it.” 

Suspicion thus aroused, was confirmed by 
the fact that John Welcome and three others, 
with whom he spent most of his time, had not 
been seen that morning. Usually on the 
lookout for everything which promised excite- 
ment, it did not seem strange that they were 
not in the crowd. 

Many hands make light work ; and by 
noon, the store was in its accustomed order ; 
improved, some said, as corners..were cleaned 
of rubbish which had accumulated for years. 


172 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Now treat all round, and we’ll be off” — 
Yes, Mr. Leet must do that, of course, and 
then he was left comparatively alone. 

In the afternoon, John Welcome, with his 
three boon companions, was arrested, on sus- 
picion of having been engaged in the last 
night’s trespass, and again Mr. Stiles mounted 
the stairs leading to Mark Dunning’s room. 
No sooner was his face seen, than the lawyer 
guessed his errand. 

Come in, and sit down, my friend.” 

1 can’t stop,” replied the old man. I 
want you to do something for my grandson. 
I’ll be surety for him, give bail, or whatever 
you call it. Leet has got a grudge against 
me, because I asked him not to sell the boy 
liquor ; and it’s no use for me to say any 
thing.” 

As the speaker paused to recover breath, 
Mr. Dunning said, ‘M will attend to the mat- 
ter. So far as I have heard, the boys took 


MARK DUISNING’S ENEMY. 


173 


nothing ; and I rather think Leet can be pre- 

^ • 

vailed upon to settle without further trouble.” 

I hope he can. It will kill me to have 
John sent to jail ; and his mother is almost 
beside herself, at the thought of it. She was 
coming here, to see what could be done.” 

Don’t be too much distressed, my friend,” 
said the lawyer, kindly. This may be the 
best thing that ever happened to John.” 

How can it ? ” was asked. 

It may teach him a good lesson. We 
need, sometimes, to be arrested suddenly, in 
our course. I have been waiting for an oppor- 
tunity to talk with^John, and will take advan- 
tage of this.” 

‘‘ I hope you will,” responded Mr. Stiles. 

John might make a smart man.” 

‘‘No doubt of that. But the first thing 
to be done now, is to get him out of Leet’s 
clutches. I will attend to it at once. Where 
is John ? ” 


174 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


‘‘ At home. Mason came after him ; but I 
begged him off, by promising he shouldn’t 
leave the house, till we could find out what 
was to be done. I guess I’ll go and tell his 
mother you’ll help us. And don’t mind about 
the cost, Mark.” 

Mr. Leet was surrounded by a group of 
loungers when Mark Dunning entered his 
store, and, after a respectful greeting, asked 
if he could see him on business, for a few 
minutes. 

The grocer made an effort to answer in an 
easy tone, yet with his best endeavors, there 
was a slight embarrassment in his manner. 
The man before him was no stranger, al- 
though it was now nearly six months since 
they had met, except casually, on the street. 
Times had changed since, as a miserable 
drunkard, the lawyer had begged for some em- 
ployment by which he might earn a glass of 
liquor. Changed, indeed ! No one would 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


175 


have dreamed that, in this very store, he had 
written diligently for half a day, to procure 
the means of gratifying the terrible thirst 
which maddened him. 

Not a drop, till you’re through,” his em- 
ployer would say. “ I know better than to 
pay you befoi*ehand. You'll be drunk as soon 
as you’ve got some liquor down your throat ; 
and my work won’t be done.” 

To such indignities had Mark Dunning sub- 
mitted ; and for such wages had he worked. 
Now, he stood demanding an interview with 
the rumseller, on business. 

Mr. Leet was angry ; angry at the calm, 
fixed gaze with which he was regarded ; angry 
in anticipation of the business to which he 
was summoned. The influence of his old cus- 
tomer was used against him. He had often 
been made aware of this ; and he longed for 
revenge. 

‘‘ Must your business be attended to right 
away ?” he asked. 


176 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


If convenient for you to do so,” was the 
reply. 

Well, I rather think I know what you 
came for,” said the^man, doggedly. I see 
old Stiles going towards your office; and I 
can tell you now, to begin with, that them 
boys have got to take their chance with the 
law. I aint going to have my store turned 
topsy turvy, for nothing.” 

We won’t discuss the matter here, if you 
please,” said the lawyer. “ Can I see you 
alone ? ” 

Mr. Leet gained courage from those about 
him ; but to talk in a braggart tone, while 
others were admiring his courage, and to do 
so alone, with one who was immeasurably his 
superior, were very different affairs. ’ Then, 
too, Mark Dunning as a drunkard, and Mark 
Dunning as a sober, respected lawyer, were 
very different men. Altogether, the prospect 
of a private conversation was far from 
agreeable. * 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


177 


Yet, as it could not be avoided, the rum- 
seller said, “ Walk tliis way. And Henry, 
you may bring a bottle of wine,” he added, 
turning to his clerk. I remember that Mr. 
Dunning is a good judge of wine.” 

“ I shall not taste your wine,” responded 
the lawyer, quickly. I came here to talk 
with you, not to drink liquor. I have done 
enough of that, in the years that have gone 
by.” 

No matter about the wine, then, Henry,” 
and the speaker’s face crimsoned with the 
consciousness of defeat ; while significant 
smiles and winks were exchanged among the 
bystanders. Mr. Leet led the way into a back 
room, and prepared to listen. 

I' have come to see what will satisfy you 
for John Welcome’s part of last night’s mis- 
chief,” said his companion. 

I shall be satisfied, when he is punished' 
as he ought to be,” was the reply, in a surly 


178 


MARK RUNNING S ENEMY. 


tone. The rascals have got to pay for their 
fun.” 

But you can’t wish to injure the boys, Mr. 
Leet. It was a very foolish frolic ; and they 
seem to have worked hard for it. I hope you 
won’t push matters with them.” 

I thought ’twas John Welcome you come 
to see about.” 

It is. I am only speaking a friendly word 
for the other boys. Do you know if they had 
been drinking anywhere, last evening ? ” 
‘‘How should I know?” asked the grocer, 
sharply. “ I don’t keep track of other folks’ 
boys. It’s as much as I can do to look after 
my own.” 

“ All parents would be likely to feel like 
that,” was the reply. “ Boys have some 
habits which are not altogether agreeable, and 
may have loose ideas of property. For in- 
stance, they seem to think the best apples and 
the largest water-melons belong to them, by a 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


179 


natural right, no matter on whose land they 
grow.” 

I know what you mean by that, Mark 
Dunning. But I paid old Scriggs all he asked 
for his 'truck; so you needn’t talk about that. 
My boys aint any worse than other folks’ 
boys.” 

‘‘ I never heard that they were, Mr. Leet. . 
Now, I wish to pay what will satisfy you for 
John Welcome’s mischief. I wish to settle 
the matter this afternoon.” 

I aint going to settle, I tell you. I’ll 
have them all up before a justice, and see 
what comes.” 

“ Then I may consider that you absolutely 
refuse a settlement.” 

‘‘ Yes, I do,” said Leet. 

‘‘ Yery well. Good afternoon, sir.” 

From the grocery, Mark Dunning went to 
Mrs. Welcome’s, where he found her father, 
still anxious and troubled. John was in a 


180 MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 

state of great excitement, wringing his hands, 
crying, and begging that he might not he sent 
to jail. 

‘‘ I’ll do anytliing, mother, if you’ll only pay 
Mr. Leet, so he won’t send me. I never’ll 
have anything more to do with Dan Straw.” 

‘‘ Oh, my son, if you had only heard to me, 
and given him up before, you wouldn’t have 
got into this trouble. I told you, when you 
began to smoke, where it would end. Oh, 
what would your father say, if he was alive ? 
If you keep on drhiking, you’ll die on the gal- 
lows.” 

“ Oh mother, don’t ; ” and here the boy 
broke down entirely. I won’t drink any 
more,” he added, when able to speak. ‘‘ I 
won’t smoke any more ; ’’ and rushing into the 
kitchen, he threw his pipe on the glowing 
coals. Grandfather, won’t you help me ? ” 
he exclaimed, returning to the sitting room. 

It was at this juncture that the lawyer ar- 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


181 


rived, and after speaking to Mr. Stiles and 
Mrs. Welcome, addressed himself to John. 

Well, my boy, I have come to talk with 
you about your last night’s frolic. I have just 
left Mr. Leet, and he seems to be very angry 
with your company. I wish you. to tell me 
where you spent last evening, and what your 
motive was in entering the store.” 

Yes, John, tell the whole truth,” said his 
grandfather. ‘‘You. know that’s what I told 
you, in the beginning. Don’t add falsehood 
to the rest of your sins.” 

“ I understood that the boys have acknowl- 
edged entering the store,” remarked Mr. Dun- 
ning. 

“ Yes, they have,” answered the old gentle- 
man. “ Dan and Bill denied it at first, till 
they found it wa’n’t of any use ; and then 
they owned up.” 

John had made a previous confession ; but 
the cross questioning to which he was now 


182 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


subjected, elicited the whole truth. He, with 
his companions, had spent the first part of the 
evening in Leet’s store, and some conversation 
heard there had prompted the mischief they 
had done. 

Did you drink any liquor in the evening ? ” 

Yes, sir, once. Dan Straw stood treat, 
because he won the coppers, in a game of 
pitch and toss.” 

Did you drink more than once ? ” 

Not in the evening,” was John’s evasive 
reply. 

Tell the whole truth,” again said his 
grandfather, and he added, We drank some 
after we went into the store.” 

‘^You say you heard something which 
made you think of it. Where did you get a 
dark lantern, and how could you make your 
plans at such short notice ? ” 

“ Dan Straw has had a dark lantern this 
good while, and he said he’d read about such 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


183 


tilings, so he knew just what to do. We 
shouldn’t tried last night, only we knew 
Strong was gone, and there wouldn’t be any 
body up stairs.” 

‘‘ What kind of books have you been read- 
ing lately ? ” 

Here the boy hung his head, and seemed 
more unwilling to answer than at any time be- 
fore, but his grandfather’s reiterate command 
forced him to speak. I’ve been reading 
some Han Straw lent me.” 

Have you any here ? ” 

Only one,” he answered, hesitatingly. 

‘‘ I should like to see that one.” 

Of course, this had no direct bearing upon 
the case under consideration, yet the book was 
brought from its hiding place. 

“ The best thing you can do with this book 
is to burn it,” said the lawyer, after giving it 
a slight examination. ^‘You must give up 
such readings, if you wish to be a decent 
man.” 


184 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


Mrs. Welcome disposed of the book by 
placing it beside the pipe, and the questioning 
went on for the next quarter of an hour. 

Then, Mark Dunning professed himself 
satisfied, and rose to leave. 

Won’t you do something for me ? ” cried 
John Welcome. 

“I will do what I can,” was the reply. 
‘‘ But you must do for yourself.” 

“ What can I do ? ” 

Obey your mother in all things ; take 
your grandfather’s advice, and give up bad 
companions.” 

I will, I will, Mr. Dunning ; but don’t let 
them send me to jail.” 

This was in the old days, when, for a mere 
pittance paid into the town treasury, men 
were licensed to deal out death and ruin, at 
their pleasure. * But, at some time in the his- 
tory of the town, a vote had passed, which 
made any dealer liable to a fine of five dollars 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 185 

for selling to a minor, without the consent of 
his parents or guardian. This vote was 
recorded ; yet never having been put in force, 
few remembered its existence. 

Mark Dunning was one of the few, whose 
memory served him, and he resolved to take 
advantage of the dead letter law. To make 
all sure, he went to the office of the town 
clerk, and satisfied himself that no contrary 
action had been taken. Then to Mr. Leet 
again. 

By this time, the grocer, encouraged by his 
friends, was even less inclined to compromise 
than he had been at the previous visit. He 
bowed carelessly, with a cold greeting, as tlie 
lawyer entered his store. 

Can I see you on business, Mr. Leet ? It 
seems necessary that I should trouble you 
again.” 

‘‘ Some more about them boys, I suppose. 
You might as well say what you want to, right 


186 


MARK Dunning's enemy. 


here. It aint any secret, what I mean to do, 
and I shan’t change my mind.” 

Mark Dunning hesitated before replying. 
‘‘ I have nothing to lose by making my busi- 
ness public,” he said, at length. But, as a 
friend, I advise you to give me a private 
interview.” 

Mr. Leet was troubled. He felt sure that 
in some way the speaker had gained an ad- 
vantage since they last met, and without 
further parley, he yielded the point. The 
lawyer asked no favors. On the contrary, it 
was Leet’s turn to sue for favor, when, assured 
that he was liable to a series of prosecutions 
for violating the conditions of his license. 

The boys who entered your store last 
night, bought liquor here in the evening ; and 
the fines for selling to them would be twenty 
dollars. If these fines should be collected, 
as they certainly shall be, if you refuse to 
settle with the friends of John Welcome, 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


187 


others will be likely to remember instances 
where you have sold to boys, against the 
wishes of their parents. There was John 
Williams. His mother came to you re- 
peatedly. I know that, for I saw her here, 
and heard what she said. When the boy 
died, at last, after exposure that awful Jan- 
uary night, when you drove him out into the 
storm, an action might have heeii brought 
against you for something more than selling 
liquor.’’ 

The grocer had no choice but to listen to 
this grouping of facts, and answered, tremu- 
lously, ‘‘I hope you won’t prosecute me, Mr. 
Dunning. I’ve always been a good friend to 
you.” 

‘‘ The least said about friendship between 
us, the better, although I have no wish to 
injure you,” was the reply. 

‘‘ I’ll do just what you want me to, if you 
won’t prosecute me for selling. I didn’t 


188 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


mean to violate the law. And, Mr. Dunning, 
don’t tell anybody about the fines. I won’t 
make any trouble for the boys. Let it all go.” 

Do you mean what you say, Mr. Leet ? ” 

Yes, sir,” — the rumseller was growing 
very respectful. 

‘‘ You will withdraw your complaint, pay- 
the costs which have been made, and say no 
more about it.” 

Yes, sir.” 

Then you are safe, in regard to fines for 
this offence, so far as I am concerned, and in 
behalf of John Welcome, I will pay one quar- 
ter of the costs already incurred.” 

No matter about that, Mr. Dunning. It 
aint much, any way ; not enough to be worth 
mentioning. Let it go.” 

But this did not suit the lawyer’s sense of 
justice ; and moreoveiv it would not be best 
for any one concerned. The just proportion 
was paid. 


MARK Dunning’s knemy. 


189 


Settled up this time, Leet ? ” asked one of 
the group, who waited to hear the news. 

Yes,” was the gruff reply. I wa’n’t 
going to have any more fuss about it. Old 
Dan Straw has been here twice, to-day ; and 
I expect the others will come before bedtime. 
I’m sick of so much fuss. I’ve scared the 
boys pretty well, and now they may go,” he 
added, with a laugh which was^ anything but 
cheerful. 

He was thinking of John Williams’ death. 
Not a pleasant subject of thought, but rum- 
sellers must, from the very nature of their 
business, have many unpleasant reflections. 
Of course, there was much curiosity to know 
what had changed his mind so suddenly ; and, 
although the exact truth was not known until 
long after, it was evident that some strong 
influence had been brought to bear upon him. 

John Welcome was a happy boy when told 
that he need have no more fears of the jail ; . 


190 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


and in his gratitude was ready to make any 
promises which might be demanded. 

Come to my office to-morrow morning, at 
eight o’clock,” said the lawyer. “ I wish to 
talk with you.” 

Yes, sir,” was the trembling reply. ‘‘ I’ll 
come.” 

And don’t go any nearer to the hotel and 
Leet’s store than is necessary.” 

‘‘ No, sir, I won’t. But how much is there 
to pay, Mr. Dunning ? ” 

“ I will settle with your grandfather about 
that.” 

‘‘ But I want to know. I’m going to work 
and earn the money ; and please tell me how 
much it is.” 

Not to-night,” answered Mr. Dunning. 
‘‘ I must go back- to my office. Be sure that I 
see you there in the morning.” 

‘‘ Yes, sir.” 

The next morning, John Welcome rapped 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


191 


timidly at the office door, and was bidden to 
enter. 

‘‘ Good morning, my boy. I am glad to 
see you. Take that chair opposite me. Did 
you come directly from home ? ” 

‘‘Yes, sir.” ‘ 

Didn’t stop at Leet’s ? ” 

“ No, sir. I never shall go there again, 
unless mother sends me.” • 

•“ Then you won’t be likely to go there very 
soon,” remarked the lawyer. “ I wished you 
to come here, so we could have a ’talk all by 
ourselves. I presume, however, you didn’t 
wish to come.” 

“ I knew I ought to come,” was the evasive 
reply. 

“ Well, that will do, for the present. Next 
time I ask you, I hope you will be glad to 
come. I have a story to tell you, and most 
boys like to hear stories.” 

“ Yes, sir, I do.” 


192 


MARK DUNNING’S EJNEMY. 


‘‘ I am glad of that, for my story has a 
moral, by which I hope you will be profited ; ” 
and then Mark Dunning outlined the history 
of his own life, abating nothing of the poverty 
and wretchedness which, for the last few years 
had characterized it. 

Now, what do you think of a man who 
will do like that ? ” he asked, in conclusion. 

I think he is a fool,” answered the boy, 
quickly, with flashing eyes. If 1* could 
make so much money, and live so nice, I 
wouldn’t ” 

You wouldn’t be a drunkard,” interrupted 
his companion. 

No, sir, 1 wouldn’t.” 

“ That is just what I should have said, at 
your age ; just what the man whose story I 
have been telling you would have said.” 

Then what made him do so ? ” asked 
John. 

I can’t tell you. He never wished to be a 


drunkard.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


193 


“ And is he one now ? ” • 

What do you think ? Am I a drunk- 
ard ? ” 

John Welcome, dumb with astonishment, 
looked at the speaker. 

“ I have told you my own story ; not the 
worst of it, for that would be impossible. 
Now, do you wish to be a drunkard ? ” 

‘‘ No, sir, I wonH be a drunkard,” replied 
John, shudderinf^ at the thought of such a 
fate. I never ivill be a drunkard,” he added, 
a moment after. 1 never’ll drink another 
glass of liquor, as long as I live, and ! never’ll 
use any tobacco, either.” ^ 

“ Then you are safe, my boy,” said Mark 
Dunning. “ Give me your hand ; ” and 
across the table two hands met in a strong, 
firm clasp. I believe you will keep your 
promise ; but you must ask God to help you.” 
Yes, sir, I will,” sobbed the boy. 

Now I know you are not sorry you came 


194 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


here, and you must come again, whenever you 
need advice. My Arthur is coming home 
soon, and then we shall be glad to see you at 
our house.” 

Thank you, Mr. Dunning. Thank you 
for the story, too.” 

Only fifteen years of age, it was not very 
strange that a fatherless boy, influenced by 
bad companions, should have acquired the 
habits which are ruining thousands, — I had 
almost said millions — of the young men of 
our country. He had now received what was 
to him a severe and timely lesson, which, 
judging from his appearance, he would not 
soon forget. 

On his way home, he met Dan Straw, swag- 
gering down the street, with an air expressing 
the contemptuous indifference to public opin- 
ion, which such as he consider manly. 

Hallo, John,” cried the coarse fellow, re- 
moving a pipe from his mouth, and puffing 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


195 


out a cloud of tobacco smoke. “ How are you, 
this morning ? ’’ 

u Very well,” was the cool reply. 

Old Leet had a good time of it, didn’t 
he ? ” continued Dan ; and this was followed 
by a vulgar laugh, which grated strangely on 
the listener’s ears. “ He talked pretty loud, 
about jail and damages ; but he cooled off, be- 
fore night. I told you we should come out all 
right. The best thing we can do now, is to 
celebrate, over by the pond, this afternoon. 
What do you say to that ? Why, you look 
like a whipped baby ! What has come over 
you ? Going to play good boy, and be tied to 
mother’s apron strings.” 

‘‘ I am going to he a good boy,” said John 
Welcome, decidedly. “ If my mother wants 
to tie me to her apron strings, she can. I am 
willing.” 

‘‘ Fool ! ” muttered his companion, with a 
profane accompaniment. ‘‘ You never was 


196 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


half a man, yet ; always whimpering and hold- 
ing back, when there was any fun on hand. 
Come,” he added, changing his tactics. 
“ You’ll get over this. Let’s hunt up Bill and 
Tom.” 

No, Dan, I don’t want to see them ; and 
I might as well tell you now, that I’ve turned 
over a new leaf. I’ve got through with 
tobacco and liquor; all through, and done 
with them forever. You’d better follow my 
example.” 

No you don’t,” said the wicked boy, shak- 
ing his head menacingly at his retreating com- 
panion. I’ll see about that.” 

Mr. Stiles was waiting John’s return, and 
listened with great interest to a report of the 
morning's adventures. You’re in earnest 
about your promise,” remarked the old man. 

Yes, grandfather, I am. You’ll see that. 
I’m going to do just what you and mother 
say, all the time. I hope, though, you won’t 


MARK DUNNING’S .ENEMY. 


197 


tell me I must go to school every day. I’d 
rather work. I want to learn a trade.” 

‘‘ What trade ? ” asked the grandfather. 

“ The machinist’s,” John replied. 

Well, I’ve no objection to that, if you’ll 
stay at home. There’ll be a good shop here, 

as soon as they get started ; and I’ll speak to 

« 

your guardian about it. I do wish you took 
to books, John.” 

I wish I did, grandfather ; but I don’t. 
I’ll try, though, if you and mother say so.” 

That’s right, my boy. We’ll see. Just 
now, there is plenty for you to do round here. 
It’s about time to plow the garden, and I 
heard your mother say that she had to split 
some wood, before she could make a fire, this 
morning. If you want to work, there’s a 
chance for you in the shed.” 

Yes, sir, I guess there is,” responded the 
hoy. Mother shan’t split any more wood 
this year, if my hands last.” 


198 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


Mattie, the baby, as all called her, although 
she was four years of age, went to see bud- 
der John ” saw wood ; and amused herself by 
carrying into the kitchen one stick after 
another, until the capacious wood-box was 
filled. Then she clapped her dimpled hands, 
and shouted gleefully, while the mother’s face 
gfew radiant with happiness. 

John was celebrating, in a homely way, 
while Dan Straw, with two companions, went 
to the pond. Tiiere they took possession of a 
boat, rowed out into the deepest water, drank 
eacli from a bottle of liquor, with some foolish 
ceremonies, and theii made their way to a 
small island, where they proposed to lay 
off,” beguiling the time with some books, 
brought for tliat purpose. Smoking, drinking 
occasionally from the black bottle, and read- 
ing such pages as the most unprincipled 
wretch might blush to write, the afternoon 
wore away. 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


199 


After all, it was not half so jolly as they 
had anticipated, and they were glad when the 
sun went down. It was time then to go 
home ; but upon looking for the boat, it was 
not to be found. In their carelessness, they 
had forgotten to secure it. Where it was now 
they could only guess. 

Down stream, of course,” said Bill, \v^ith 
an ominous hiccough. “ Likely it’s caught 
at the point. Dan, you might swim down 
there, and see.” 

Swim there yourself,” was the reply. 

I’ve done my part, furnishing liquor for 
you, and the old boat may go, for all I care.” 

Who’ll pay for it, if it gets smashed ? ” 
asked Bill. 

“ I don’t know. The one that took it, I 
.suppose. That wa’n’t me.” 

‘VWho was it then, I should like to know ? ” 

They disputed for some time, cursing each 
other in a terrible way, and at last coming to 


200 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


blows. Fighting, however, did not continue 
long, for, half tipsy though they were, they 
had sense enough to know this would not 
help them out of their trouble. 

Dan was the only one who could swim, and 
he was persuaded to go in search of the boat. 
But, in attempting to cross the river, his 
clothes were carried down stream, leaving 
him in a sorry plight. He was obliged to 
conceal himself in the bushes, until after 
dark, when he slunk home, without making 
any provision for the rescue of his companions, 
who spent the night upon the island. Not 
until the next morning, were they found ; two 
more forlorn looking boys than are often seen 
in a country town. 

Then, as usual after all celebrations, the 
bill must be settled. A boat had been ruined,, 
and its owner insisted upon being paid more 
than its actual value. 

John Welcome hearing of this, thought him- 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


201 


self a lucky boy, that he had nothing to do 
with it, and again thanked Mr. Dunning for 
the advice he had received. There are lots 
of other boys that need talking to,” he said. 

I know there are,” replied the lawyer. 

Lots of them,” continued John. They 
think they behave like men, when they chew 
tobacco, and smoke, and drink liquor. They 
laugh at me for not doing as I used to.” 

‘‘Never mind that. Those who win are 
the ones to laugh. Do as your mother says, 
and you’ll come out right.” 

The last of May, Arthur Dunning came 
home. He was to recite to his father through 
the summer, and in the autumn, enter some 
good academy, to prepare for college. Mr. 
Clement expressed great regret at losing his 
young clerk, declaring that he was the best 
boy he ever saw. “ There’s a character for 
you to sustain, Arthur.” 

“ Yes, sir. I’ll do as well as I can ; ” and 


202 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


surely, no one had reason to complain of this. 
For eight hours of each day, he studied or 
wrote in his father’s office, while much of the 
remaining time he spent in cultivating a small 
garden, every foot of which was made to yield 
a good return for his labor. Sometimes he 
provided the family with a luxurious breakfast 
of river fish. Thus always employed, he was 
always happy, and guarded against tempta- 
tion. Every one smiled upon him, and wished 
him success in a far different way from that 
which characterized his friends, a year before, 
when he was a drunkard’s son. Now, he was 
tlie son of ’Squire Dunning, as old people 
called his father ; and ’Squire Dunning was a 
rising man. ‘ 

This was apparent to all. Even Alfred 
Hanson acknowledged that his cousin was 
doing well, and bade fair yet to occupy a high 
position. 

‘‘ I didn’t believe Mark would hold out so,” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


203 


he said to Tom Giles, with whom he was on 
somewhat familiar terms. “ It must have 
been hard work at the beginning, and I 
thought he’d give up.” 

I thought so, too, till I heard him talk, 

B 

about two months ago,” was the reply. 

“ What did he say ? ” 

“ He said a great deal ; more than I can re- 
member. ’Twas that day old Mr. Wilcox was 
buried from the town farm, and there were a 
good many standing round, after the grave 
was filled up. I tell you, Mark talked like a 
minister, ‘ or a lawyer, just which you’re a 
mind to call it. He’s got a glib tongue of his 
own.” 

He always had that,” replied Mr. Hanson, 

‘‘ But what was he talking about ? ” 

About drinking liquor. And he told a - 
good deal of truth ; though I don’t believe in 
his total abstinence.. It aint the thing for me, 


204 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Nor for me, either,” was the response. 
‘‘ I hope I’ve sense enough to control myself, 
and stop, when I’ve drinked what’s good for 
me.” 

I’m pretty sure I have,” said Tom Giles. 

But then you know we can carry off more 
than some folks. I’ve seen Mark Dunning 
drunk as a fiddler, on one glass. If I could 
only got a spoonful of liquor down his throat 
before last court, I’d had that Dunn lot, safe 
and sure.” 

How ? I don’t see that exactly.” 

“ You don’t ? Why, I thought you under- 
stand all about Mark’s ways. If he’d got the 
taste of liquor, he couldn’t stop till it was all 
over with him. I could have managed him 
then, papers and all. That’s what I mean, 
and I guess he knows it. He’s doing well, 
now.” 

“ Yes, people say so,” replied Mr. Hanson. 

‘‘Oh, there’s^ no mistake about it. He’ll 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


205 


have business enough. I don’t like him very 
well for what he did last .winter ; but I’ll give 
him the credit of being smart.” 

I suppose he is smart,” was the absent 
reply. 

“ That’s what he is, and he’s got a smart 
boy, too, that will turn out a chip of the old 
block.” 

What possessed Tom Giles to talk in this 
manner and then ride rapidly away, Mr. Han- 
son could not imagine. The truth, doubtless, 
had been spoken ; but, as every one knows, it 
is not always agreeable to hear the truth. 

The man left standing by himself, was 
where he could command a fine view of the 
place, which Mark Dunning had called home 
for fifteen years of his life ; and, better than 
^any one else did this man understand why 
the old roof tree no longer sheltered him. 
Better, too, than any one else, did this man 
understand how, in the mysterious linking of 


206 MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 

events, it came to pass that his uncle’s name- 
sake had fallen into disgrace and poverty. It 
may be that some self accusations mingled 
with his musings ; yet, upon one point he was 
resolved. However much others might praise 
the reformed lawyer, he would not be one to 
do him honor. Their paths in life must lie 
far apart. 

Only a few days after this, while Mr. Han- 
son was superintending some work in his gar- 
den, a boy came rushing up to him with the 
cry, Walter is in the river.” 

Where ?” asked the father, but the mes- 
senger had fallen exhausted, and there was no 
reply. 

Mr. Forbes, first called, had already reached 
the river, and received Walter from the arms 
of Arthur Dunning. 

Is he dead ? Is he dead ? ” asked one and 
another. 

‘‘ Nowhere near it,” was the reply “ Stand 
back and give me room. Here, Arthur, take 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


207 


hold and help me, if you aint in a hurry to get 
off your wet clothes.” 

‘‘ I don’t mind them at all,” said Arthur, 
lending his aid to restore consciousness to the 
half drowned boy. 

‘‘ All right, now,” exclaimed Mr. Forbes, as 
Walter opened his eyes. Get me a blanket, 
somewhere, and I’ll have Walter at home 
before his mother has a chance to be fright- 
ened.” 

A blanket was brought from the nearest 
house, and when Mr. Hanson arrived, all dan- 
ger was over. 

Give my boy to me,” he said, in a voice 
trembling with emotion. I will carry him, 
myself. I can’t stop now, to ask who saved 
him ; but, whoever it was shall be well 
rewarded.” 

‘‘ I wonder what reward he thinks you 
want,” remarked one of the bystanders to Ar- 
thur, who was gathering up the articles he had 


208 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


thrown from him, before plunging into the 
water. 

“ I know what reward I shall have^^ was 
the reply. 

What ? ” was asked, curiously. 

The knowledge that I have done my duty, 
and only my duty. It is nothing to go into 
the water here, as you all know ; but some- 
body must have done it, or Walter Hanson 
would have drowned. I am glad I was where 
I heard the alarm.” 

That evening Arthur Dunning received a 
note, asking him to come to the Oaks, where 
the whole family wished to express their 
gratitude to him. What shall I do, mother ? 
he asked. 

“ Consult your father, and do as he says,” 
replied Mrs. Dunning. “ It seems to me that 
it would be proper for Mr. Hanson to come 
here, if he wishes to sec you.” 

So I think, mother. I hope father will 


think so too.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


209 


His father did think so, and a polite assur- 
ance that no thanks were desired, was sent to 
Mr. Hanson. 

The next morning, the gentleman called, 
and enquired for Arthur. 

“ You will find him at Mr. Dunning’s 
office,” replied his mother. 

‘‘ I am under the greatest obligations to 
him, for saving my boy,” said Mr. Hanson. 

I can never repay him ; but I wish in some 
fitting way to express my gratitude. His 
saving my boy was a noble deed.” 

Only his duty,” was the reply. Arthur 
says he incurred no danger, and deserves* no 
praise. He is accustomed to the water.” 

But that does not make what he has done 
any less to me. I must see him, and tell him 
how grateful I am.” 

He had an opportunity to do this, without 
going again to the cottage. Arthur was walk- 
ing down the^ street, when Mr. Hanson called, 


210 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


‘‘ Arthur Dunning, I wish to see you ; ” and 
the boy thus addressed waited for him to 
come up. 

Good morning,” he said, extending his 
hand cordially. ‘‘ I have something to say to 
you. Let us step into the hotel, where we 
can talk at our leisure.” 

‘‘You must excuse me from going in there, 
Mr. Hanson. I never go into the hotel.” 

“ And why not ? ” was asked. 

“ Because liquor is sold there, and it is no 
place for me. If you will come into father’s 
office, I will go back.” 

A flush of anger suffused the gentleman’s 
face ; yet, remembering the object for which 
he sought this boy, he hastened to speak 
calmly. “ It is hardly worth while to do that. 
I will walk with you ; ” and then followed an 
awkward silence, which Arthur was first to 
break, by enquiring for Walter. 

He is all right,” was the reply. “ We are 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


211 


indebted to you for his life, and anxious, in 
some fitting way, to express our gratitude. 
To say we thank you is very little. You have 
laid us under the greatest obligations.” 

Why, Mr. Hanson, I don’t think so, at 
all,” said Arthur, frankly. There was no 
danger for me, in going into the water. I am 
glad I was there ; but please don’t talk as 
though I did anything wonderful.” 

I see you are modest, as you were brave,” 
remarked his companion. Still, we must be 
grateful, and if I can ever be of service to 
you, remember that you have strong claims 
upon me. I was commissioned to bring you 

to The Oaks. What shall I say to my wife 

# 

and children ? Will you come ? ” 

Thank you, Mr. Hanson ; but I have some 
business to do for father, and must be 
excused.” 

It was not easy to patronize Arthur Dun- 
ning ; and the trial thus made resulted as 


212 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


might have been anticipated. Later in the 
day, when Walter came running up to him 
with extended hands, he listened to the boy’s 
thanks, with a beaming face. 

‘‘ We felt real bad, because you didn’t come 
to see us last night,” said Walter. 

Did you ? ” was asked, in reply. 

‘‘ Yes, indeed, and Flo almost cried. She 
wanted to tell you how glad she was, and she 
is going to now, the very first time she sees 
you. Mother says you’re somebody to be 
proud of, and I told Barty I wished you were 
my brother.” 

Flora Hanson, unable to express her grati- 
tude to Arthur personally, charged Grace 
with a message, which was faithfully deliv- 
ered. She said she didn’t blame you at all, 
for not coming here, last evening, though 
they all wanted to see you,” added the sister. 

‘‘ I shouldn’t think she ought to blame our 
Arthur,” chimed in Barty. He’s just the 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


213 


best boy in the world. Mother thinks so too, 
and I heard father say he was a great com- 
fort.’’ 


CHAPTER V, 


No sin without its stain, ^ 
No guilt without its pain; 
Each lightly woven strand 
Grows firm as iron band. 


^*T was about two years and a half from 
the trial of her land case, that Mrs 
Conant, returning from a ride to the 
village, exclaimed, I believe the 
Lord helps Mark Dunning, every day of his 
life.’’ 



“ The Lord helps us all, doesn’t he ? ” 
asked Ella Bond. 

‘‘ To be sure, child ; but we see it plainer 
with some folks, than others, and I see it with 
Mr. Dunning. I went in to have a little chat 
with his wife, this morning ; and nothing to 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


215 


do but I must take off my things and stop to 
dinner. ’Twas a good dinner, too, and I en- 
joyed every minute of my visit. Mr. Dun- 
ning asked a blessing at the table, and he’s a 
real Christian, if I know what a Christian is, 
Mr. Ware wants him to join the church.” 

‘‘ And wliy doesn’t he, grandmother ? ” 

‘‘That’s just the question. I took the 
liberty to ask, to-day, and his answer made 
the tears come into my eyes. I wouldn’t have 
believed it, if anybody else had told me, and 
now it don’t seem as though it could be true. 
He said he couldn’t trust himself to take wine 
at the communion. He don’t go to meeting 
communion days, because he don’t want to 
pass the wine to his wife. He said he’d 
prayed over it a good deal, and he hoped he 
should feel strong enough, some time, to come 
forward. It’s a dreadful thing, and there 
mus^ be something wrong, somewhere, if poor 
souls can’t come to the Lord’s table, without 


216 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


being tempted back to sin. I must have a 
t^k with Mr. Ware about it.” 

The old lady was getting excited, and to di- 
vert her attention, Ella asked if slie had seen 
Grace Dunning. 

‘‘ To be sure I have. She was home to din- 
ner, and sent her love to you though like as 
not, I should forgot it, if you hadn't mentioned 
her. She wants you to make her a *Visit. 
She’s got a new piano, her father bought a lit- 
tle while ago.” 

Ella’s eyes danced as she answered, I 
knew Grace was going to have a new piano. 
I wish my father had lived; then perhaps I 
might have one.” 

‘‘ Perhaps you might,” replied her grand- 
mother. • ‘‘We never thought of such things 
when I was a girl. We had to make music 
with the spinning wheel ; but times have 
changed since then, and I don’t Want t# say 
they’re any worse. You’re a good girl, Ella, 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


217 


and I wish you could have everything you 
want. Oh, another thing. Miss Dunning 
said she’d board you this fall, if you want to 
go to school in the village.” 

But, mother,” said Mrs. Bond. 

‘‘ Well, what about but mother ? I suppose 
I know what you mean. You needn’t trouble 
yourself about the pay. I’ll attend to that. 
There’s plenty of things here on the farm 
that Miss Dunning wants, and I’m going to 
manage the business myself without any of 
your help.” 

Then there were two such happy laughs 
from grandmother and granddaughter ; after 
which the latter went out caroling a merry 
song. ^ 

You spoil that girl, mother. You never 
indulged me as you do her.” 

Didn’t I ? Well, Matildy, perhaps I 
didn’t ; bTit I meant to do right by you, and 
I don’t want to do any more than that by 


218 


MARl^ DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Ella, though she’s the singing bird of the 
house. Times change, you know.” 

“ Yes, I know they do, and people change 
with them,” replied Mrs. Bond, cheerfully. 

Did you enquire of Mrs. Dunning if they 
are going to move this fall ? ” 

Of course I did. I wanted to know ; 
and she says they shan’t move at present. 
They’re in pretty close quarters, but they can 
get along, and. they want to educate their 
children. She’s just like her mother about 
that. Miss Barnes must give Grace an educa- 
tion, whether or no, and I used to think the 
girl never’d be worth anything to work.” 

But she has been for all that, mother.” 
Yes, and that shows you can’t tell what’s 
going to happen. Miss Dunning’s as good a 
housekeeper as there is in town, and she 
don’t make any fuss about it, either. It’s 
a real treat to sit down to her table, every- 
thing looks so neat. But there, I must stop 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


219 


talking and look after the bees. I hope 
they’ll do well this year.” 

Mrs. Conant had never ceased to feel an 
interest in Mark Dunning and his family 
since she first carried to their cottage such 
store of good things ; and, although they were 
no longer objects of charit}^, she yet insisted 
upon sharing with them the luxuries of her 
farm. 

Having so long abstained from the use of 
intoxicating drinks, the lawyer was beginning 
to have more confidence in himself ; yet he 
scrupulously avoided all places where he 
would be exposed to more tlian ordinary 
temptation. “ I may fall when I least expect 
it,” he said to his wife. My life must be 
one of watchfulness.” 

‘‘ But, Mark, you can’t have any desire for 
stimulants, now.” 

‘‘ Sometimes I have,” he answered, serious- 
ly. “ If the fumes of wine should reach me 


220 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


at such times, I couldn’t be sure of mj 
powers of resistance.” 

Soon after this it was necessary for him to 
take a journey in order to transact some 
business, and during this absence from home 
his strength was severely tested. Repeatedly 
was he asked to drink wine, and often he 
caught the sparkle of the treacherous liquor, 
but through all by God’s grace, he was true 
to himself. He conversed with many whose 
breath made the very air a means of tempta- 
tion, from which he turned with a sickening 
shudder. The battle with him was to be life 
long. There would never come a time when 
he could relax his vigilance. 

Perhaps the constant self control he was 
forced to exercise, assisted him to a better 
development of his whole nature ; and made 
him more reliable than he would otherwise 
have been. Certain it is that he was univer- 
sally trusted, and his opinion quoted as sufii- 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


221 


cient authority. A close student he did not 
flatter himself as having yet attained, but, 
striving to forget those things which were 
behind, he pressed forward. 

His profession now afforded him a generous 
income, and had he consulted only his own 
tastes, he would have assumed a different 
style of living. But his wife, who had man- 
aged the household affairs so long and so 
well, thought it best to make no change. 
When Arthur is through college, and Grace 
has finished her school education, it will be 
time to talk of a larger house,” said Mrs. 
Dunning. “ We have been very happy here, 
and my highest ambition at present is to own 
our cottage and garde/.” 

‘‘ Then your ambition shall be gratified,” 
said her husband ; and the following week he 
placed in her hands a deed of their home. 

You see it is yours, Grace. I wished to 
guard against the possibility of your losing 


222 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


it.” It was really wonderful how the fact of 
ownership seemed to increase the size of this 
cottage ; and soon it was found that there 
was room for many articles of furniture 
which would before have seemed out of place. 
Barty thought his chamber was a great deal 
higher, and guessed Arthur never’d bump his 
head again. 

Another year, this was in reality true ; the 
roof being raised, so that the boys were no 
longer reminded that they must accommodate 
themselves to circumstances. The following 
summer an addition was made which gave a 
new look to the cottage, and increased materi- 
ally the comfort of its inmates. 

When Arthur came home, he congratulated 
himself with every other member of the 
family ; and Grace in reply, said if there were 
some large trees on the place, slfe thought it 
would be nearly as pleasant as The Oaks. 

We shall have some large trees pretty 


MARK running’s ENEMY. 


223 


soon. Don’t you see how ours grow ? asked 
Barty, who always looked through magnifying 
glasses. ^^ -We shall have an orchard, too. 
There’s an apple tree in the middle of most 
every bed in the garden ; and I don’t know 
but father’ll buy a farm next year.” 

And shall you be the farmer ? ” asked 
Arthur. 

I don’t know but I shall,” was the reply. 

Uncle John says I should make a first rate 
farmer, and we don’t want more than two 
lawyers in the family. Mother says I keep 
the garden looking as nice as you did.” 

‘‘ No doubt of it, Barty. You do every- 
thing well, and if you wish to be a farmer, no 
one will object.” 

But I shan’t have a dirty farm, where the 
pigs live in the front yard,” exclaimed the 
boy. I ishould want it real nice and clean ; 
and I should want a piano, and books, and pic- 
tures, just as much as though I was a lawyer. 


224 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


And I mean to keep bees, too. Mrs. Conant 
says she’ll tell me how to take care of them.” 

I don’t see but what your plans are all 
laid,” replied Arthur. Have you selected 
your farm ? ” 

Not yet,” was the serious answer. I’ve 
thought some about it. But there’s no hurry. 
I’m only thirteen yet.” 

And you may change your mind, within 
the next thirteen years.” 

‘‘ I don’t change my mind very often,” said 
Barton, decidedly. 

Then you must be sure you are right, in 
the outset,” remarked his father, who had en- 
tered the room in time to hear this assertion. 
‘‘ I try to be,” said Barty. / 

‘‘ I think you do, my son. I have no fault 
to find with you. My children have been 
trained by a good mother, and Intrust they 
will repay her care.” 

We shall, father,” was the reply. Mother 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


225 


is going to live like a lady ; and we are to be 
her willing servants.” 

Could words paint the contrast between 
this scene and many which had been witnessed 
in Mark Dunning’s home, less than six years 
before, every reader would be fully convinced 
of the blessing of temperance. Drunkenness, 
with its hosts of squalid attendants, had fled 
the house. Plenty crowned the board, and 
love so lightened necessary labor, that each 
day was a glad thanksgiving festival. 

It’s the pleasantest place to visit in town,” 
said Mrs. Forbes. It does me good to see 
Mark and Grace with tlieir children ; and I 
don’t believe anybody can be happier than 
they are. Alfred Hanson may chuckle over 
his riches ; but it’s my opinion he’ll see the 
day when he’d be glad to' change places with 
his cousin. He looked pretty old, the last 
time I saw him, and his wife has lost all the 
beauty she ever had.” 


226 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


“ That’s a fact, and I guess pretty near 
everything goes wrong at The Oaks,” was Mr. 
Forbes’ reply. According to what T hear, 
there’s scolding in the kitchen, and scolding 
in the parlor. Walter is getting headstrong, 
and his mother won’t have him crossed, if she 
can help it. His father will see trouble with 
him, if I’m any judge of signs. I’ve always 
expected Hanson would be punished.” 

‘‘ He’s punished pretty well, now, husband. 
It hurts him to see Mark prosper.” 

‘‘ There’s a good chance for his being hurt, 
then. Mark is smart, and don’t seem to know 
it, either. I mean he don’t brag, and make 
a fuss about it. He can’t be hired to do 
wrong, either. He’ll work as hard to get jus- 
tice done to a poor woman who can’t pay him 
a cent, as he will if he expects a great fee. I 
told him so once, and he said he always 
thought of his wife, when he saw a poor 
friendless woman.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


227 


“ I suppose he thinks of his wife, as she 
was ten years ago,” responded Mrs. "Forbes. 
‘‘ There wouldn’t anybody think of calling 
her poor and friendless now. I saw her rid- 
ing with Arthur, the other day, and she didn’t 
look old enough to be his mother.” 

“ I thought so .myself, Sarah, the last time * 
I saw them together. Arthur seemed as 
proud of her as though she was a queen. And 
she’ll have reason to be proud of him. He’s 
going to make a fine man.” 

‘‘ He is almost a man now,” was the reply. 

Arthur will be twenty-one in October. He 
will be almost twenty-two, when he is through 
college.” 

“ It don’t seem possible that he can be so 
old.” 

“ No, it don’t. But it’s almost six years 
since you found his father in the lower sum- 
mer house, at The Oaks. What a night that 
was for us all ! I wonder if Mark ever thinks 
of it.” 


228 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


To be sure he does, and talks about it, 
too. But there’s somebody driving up to the 
barn, and I must go and see who it is.” 

Mr. Forbes was now living upon a farm, 
about three miles from the village, he having 
left Tlie Oaks four years previous. Wishing 
to be his own master, the offer of extra wages 
was no inducement for him to remain longer 
as Alfred Hanson’s foreman. He was the 
owner of a good substantial house, a valuable 
wood lot, and land, which was easily culti- 
vated, so that, although his farm was in a re- 
tired situation, every one said he had made a 
good bargain, and the friends of himself and 
wife did not allow them to be lonely. 

Visiting Aunt Sarah was one of Flora Han- 
son’s v greatest pleasures ; and if Grace Dun- 
ning chanced also to be a guest, her pleasure 
was enhanced. These ^oung girls liad been 
fast friends through all their school days, not- ‘ 
withstanding the influence which had been 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


229 


exerted to separate them. Even now, Flora’s 
mother spoke of the Dunnings with an ill con- 
cealed dislike, which she would have mani- 
fested more openly, but for her husband. 

Occasionally,^ during their vacation, Grace 
and Arthur called at The Oaks ; and in con- 
sideration of services rendered by the latter, 
were received cordially. Mr. Hanson mak- 
ing a point of remembering this service, some- 
times alluded to it, in a way which was far 
from agreeable. 

“ I suppose you are looking forward, im- 
patiently, to finishing your education,” said 
the hostess to Grace, during one of these 
calls. 

‘‘ Oh, no, Mrs. Hanson,” was the reply. 

I never expect to finish my education ; and I 
am sometimes sorry that I am so nearly 
through with school.” 

‘‘ You are ! ” exclaimed the lady, with sur- 
prise. Flora talks in that way ; but I was 


230 MARK DUNNING’S ENEJMY. 

SO glad to be through with scliool, that I 
didn’t wish to look in a book for a year, at 
least. Flora is always studying something, I 
don’t know what,” she added, glancing at her 
step-daughter. 

She is a very fine scholar,” replied Grace. 

The pride of her class, and a favorite with 
her teachers.” 

It was well for Flora Hanson that she did 
love study ; else, while at home, she would 
have had few resources of happiness. Be- 
tween her mother and herself there had never 
been any sympathy ; her father was cold and 
stern, and her brother so selfish and bois- 
terous, that his presence was dreaded. 

From hearing Flora so often blamed, Wal- 
ter had come to address her, rudely and un- 
kindly : spurning her sisterly counsels, and 
seldom manifesting for her anything like affec- 
tion. Mrs. Hanson, a vain, foolish woman, 
envious of her step-daughter’s beauty and 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


231 


superiority, made no effort to change this 
order of things ; while the father had matters 
of more importance under consideration. He 
wished to have Flora well educated and accom- 
plished, that she might do honor to the posi- 
tion in ,society which would be accorded his 
daughter ; beyond this, he troubled himself 
little in regard to her. 

The pride of her class, and a favorite with 
her teachers, as has been said, it was only at 
home that she missed kindness and apprecia- 
tibn. If her loving heart had been capable of 
envy, she would have envied Grace Dunning 
the warm welcome and tender affection which 
awaited her at each return. 

For obvious reasons, Mrs. Dunning and 
Mrs. Hanson had never exchanged calls ; 
although their husbands recognized each 
other civilly, whenever circumstances obliged 
them to meet. It is quite probable that 
Alfred Hanson would have done his part to 


232 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


establish more cordial relations. Mark Dun- 
ning, however, could not forget the past, and 
entirely distrusting the man who had so 
cruelly wronged him, was content with a mere 
nominal acquaintance. 

People observing this, made their own com- 
ments, far from complimentary to one of the 
parties. Even Leet, the rumseller, shrugged 
his shoulders, whenever he witnessed a meet- 
ing l^etween the two gentlemen. 

Wonder how Hanson enjoys himself, 
now-a-days,” he said to a lounging customer. 
‘‘ He won’t have much to brag of, over Dun- 
ning, in a few years.” 

“ Haint got much now,” was the reply. 

Nothing but money ; and a smart lawyer 
can earn that pretty fast.” 

‘‘ I guess he can. They say Dunning. makes 
money. Works hard, and lives prudently.” 

Yes,” answered the customer, with an 
ugly leer. If everybody lived as he does, 


MARK DUIsNING’S ENEMY. 


238 


you’d have to give up your liquor business. I 
tell you what ’tis, Leet, we’re a pack of fools, 
to pay you so much money.” 

You get your money’s worth back, don’t 
you?” 

No, you know we don’t ; and we shouldn’t, 
if we got what we called for. I read a story 
the other day, I’ve thought a good deal 
about, and I guess ’twould be a good thing if 
other folks should read it.” 

You might set up for a tract distributor,” 
said Leet, sneeringly. I’ve read of such 
doing a great deal of good.” 

So have I, and the story I liked so well, 
was a tract. One of my boys brought it home 
from the city. ’Twas wrapped round some- 
thing he bought. I ’spose there’s plenty more 
like it, somewhere. If I had a lot. I’d scatter 
’em round.” 

Bring rile one, will you ? ” 

Guess I will. I aint none of your partial 


234 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


kind ; ’’ and the speakei* went out, chuckling, 
while Leet looked vexed and gloomy. 

Half an hour later, his gloom and vexation 
were increased. Mr. Dunning called, of 
course, upon business. The rumseller knew 
that, without being told. 

‘‘ I have come in behalf of Mrs. Jones,” 
said the visitor. She has been told that her 
her son spends most of his evenings here.” 

“ He is here, sometimes,” was the reply. 

Very often, I think,” remarked the 
lawyer, coolly. ‘‘ He drinks liquor here, goes 
home partially intoxicated, and makes his 
friends a ^reat deal of trouble. That is how 
the case stands, and he is not twenty years 
of age. A minor, in point of law ; and his 
guardian has never given you permission to 
sell him liquor. 3Iost of the apprentices in 
the machine shop are minors.” 

‘‘ Well, what if they are ? ” asked Mr. Leet, 
with some hesitation. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


236 


“ You have uo right to sell them liquor.” 

I aiiit the only one that sells,” was the 
reply. 

“ And you are not the only one who can be 
fined,” responded the lawyer. “It is neces- 
sary that the law should be enforced. What 
will you do ? ” 

“ What do you want me to do ? ” . 

“ Do you mean to ask what I would advise 
you to do ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered the rumseller, in a surly 
tone. 

“ I should advise you to give up selling 
liquor, altogether.” 

“ But I’ve got a license ; and I’ve just as 
good a right to sell that, as anything else.” 

“ You have a legal right to sell to those 
over twenty-one years of age. But what shall 
I tell Mrs. Jones ? ” 

“ Tell her what you’re a mind to. I shan’t 
have anything more to do with her boy. He 


236 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


never’ll get another drop of liquor in my store. 
I don’t see, though, why you should come to 
me, any more than half a dozen otliers.” 

“ There is no reason why 1 should ; only in 
this particular case, I was requested to come 
to you. I shall be very glad to tell Mrs. 
Jones that you will sell no more liquor to her 
boy.” 

And I shall be glad to get rid of the whole 
pack of machine boys,” said Mr. Leet, with 
angry emphasis. 

Mark Dunning had been unwilling to visit 
the rumsellers of ^le town ; but the time had 
come when it was plainly the duty of some 
one to make an effort to save- the young men 
and boys. So long as they could buy liquor, 
many of them would drink it ; and to prevent 
its sale seemed the most effectual means. 

With some, the lawyer remonstrated ; 
others, he threatened ; but from all, he ob- 
tained the desired promise, and the very next 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 237 

day, it was known that no liquor would be 
sold publicly, at least, to any one under age. 

There was loud talking and swearing among 
those thus denied their accustomed drink. 
“ As much money as we’ve paid Leet, it’s a 
shame to’ have him turn against us, in this 
way,” said one. “ Welcome, come here. Is 
this any of your work ? Been threatening to 
prosecute anybody for selling liquor ? ” 

‘‘No, .s^V,” was the reply. “ I’ve something 
else to do ; though I should be glad if the 
rum-shops were shut up. They’d shut them- 
selves, if everybody was of my mind.” 

“ Shut, for want of customers, I suppose 
you mean.” 

“ That’s it, exactly. If there was no one to 
buy, there would be no one to sell ; and the 
whole matter would be settled without any 
trouble.” 

“ That’s just like you. Welcome. Always 
preaching temperance and trying to keep us 
fellows from enjoying ourselves.” 


238 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Enjoying yourselves ! ” said John Wel- 
come with a quizzical smile, and walked away, 
What’s the use talking to him ? ” asked 
one of the group. ‘‘We all know just what 
he’ll say. He’s preached to me till I’m sick 
of it, and wish he’d hold his tongue. Smart 
fellow, thougli. I lieard the boss say the 
other day he could see through a machine as 
well as though he’d been making them twenty 
years. As for me I hate the sight of a 
machine, and wisli somebody would leave me 
a fortune so I could bid good-bye to work.” 

“ All you want just now is something^ to 
drink ; and we’ll see if there aint some to be 
had before we’re twenty-four hours older ; ” 
all which being enforced by a succession of 
oaths, was thought to be a very smart speech. 

They failed, however, of their intentions ; 
format the end of twenty-four hours they were 
fully convinced that boys would be obliged 
to go elsewhere for liquor, unless they could 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


239 


obtain it in some clandestine manner ; and 
strangely enough no one seemed disposed to 
assist them in doing this. Yet no one 
seemed to know the cause of this prohibition. 
Eber Jones fancied his mother could tell, but 
he was not disposed to ask ; and after a time 
he ceased to care. Mr. Dunning spoke to 
him in a way which quite won his heart, and 
made him resolve to do his best. 

As winter drew near, tlie more intelligent 
part of' the community wished to provide 
some means of benefiting themselves and 
entertaining others who had fewer resources. 
It was suggested that possibly a course of 
lectures might be sustained ; although an 
attempt made years before had proved an 
entire failure. 

‘‘ We must do something,” said Mr. Ware 
to his brother clergymen. We must teach 
our young men that there are better ways of 
spending time than in smoking, drinking and 


240 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


gambling ; and we must try to inspire them 
with a desire to read good books instead of 
annals of crime and impossible adventures. 
We can’t expect to take away from them what 
they consider adds to their happiness without 
giving them something in return. We must 
be wise in this matter if we would win their 
souls.” 

Yes, brother Ware, and I am ready to 
aid in the good work if I only knew how it 
should be done. If somebody else will fur- 
nish the plan I will try to help carry it out.” 

That will hardly do, brother Heath. You 
must both plan, and execute. Brother Austin, 
what do you say ? ” 

1 have been thinking,” was the character- 
istic reply. I was a boy once myself. A 
pretty wild one, too ; and ever since then I 
have been greatly interested in all boys.”* 

You ought to be, brother, now that you 
have four to bring up.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


241 


‘‘ Yes, and if the Lord spares them and 
me, I will try to do it conscientiously. In the 
first place I intend to make home attractive 
to them, even if I do it sometime at the ex- 
pense, of my own comfort. But I am wander- 
ing from the subject under discussion. As I 
am a new comer here, 1 prefer to follow the 
lead of my brethren ; yet I think I may be 
allowed to say that a stronger public opinion 
in favor of temperance would benefit your 
community.” 

‘‘ Indeed, it would, brother Austin ; and the 
great question now is how we shall rouse the 
people from their apathy. Occasionally some 
event transpires which creates a little excite- 
ment, but it soon subsides. It has been pro- 
posed to try a course of lectures the coming 
winter, and I am moving a little to see how 
many we can obtain of home manufacture.. 
In my younger days I used sometimes to lec- 
ture ; and I am willing to try my powers 
, again if desired.” 


242 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


‘‘ I’ll do my best,” said Mr. Heath. I 
suppose we are expected to give our services.” 

“ Certainly, sir, ^ and consider ourselves 
honored at that,” replied Mr. Ware, laughing. 

It will take all the money we can raise to 
pay speakers from* abroad. May we expect a 
lecture from you, Mr. Austin ? Some facts 
from your western experience would be very 
acceptable to us, if you are willing to give us 
the benefit of them.” 

‘‘ I shall be very glad to do so,” was the 
answer. “ I have some talks arranged.” 

‘‘ Then three lectures are secured,” said 
Mr. Heath. Now, you must go to the law- 
yers and see what they will do. Mr. Dun- 
ning can give us a rare treat if he will.” 

‘‘ He ought to speak upon temperance,” re- 
sponded Mr. Ware. He could effectu- 
ally. I will ask him in regard to it.” 

The lawyer did not hesitate. He would be 
glad to speak upon the subject allotted to him, 


MARK DUIniNING’S ENEMY. 


243 


and would use his influence to carry through 
the proposed entertainment successfully. 

‘‘1 will endeavor to enlist the business 
men,” he said. ‘‘ It is always best to make 
sure at the outset, and we must have money. 
I am very busy ; but I will take time to do my 
part.” 

If any one was indifierent, a few words 
from Mr. Dunning either banished the indif- 
ference or prompted to concealments, so that, 
what under the circumstances might be con- 
sidered a very generous subscription, was re- 
ceived. 

Some guessed there wouldn’t many folks 
want to hear sermons in the Town Hull ; but 
Mr. Ware, who opened the course, convinced 
them that ministers could talk something 
besides sermons ; ” and those who were not 
present regretted their loss. The next week 
there was a larger audience when Mr. Heath 
redeemed the promise to do his best. Young 


244 MARK Dunning’s enemy. 

and old listened with delight ; and after this 
there were no fears but the lectures would be 
sustained. 

Mr. Austin provoked peals of laughter by 
his humoi'ous descriptions, and sallies of wit ; 
yet, with all these was mingled much of 
earnest teaching. He sketched the history of 
two men who left their eastern homes for the 
west, with only money enough to carry them 
to their place of destination. He made the 
listeners see their cabins, with rough walls 
and rude furniture. Built upon the same 
plan, and of the same dimensions, when new, 
they were wondrously alike ; but as time went 
on, a marked difference was observable, even 
in their exterior. And this difference was 
caused by the fact that the owner of one cabin 
went to the Bible for wisdom, while his neigh- 
bor went to the whiskey-barrel. 

The audience were profoundly moved ; and 
the speaker hastened to complete his sketch. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


245 


which he did in so graphic a manner, that no 
one could fail to read the lesson. 

‘‘ Well done, brother Austin ! ” exclaimed 
Mr. Ware. ‘‘ Thank you for that good word ; 
and will engage you for a second edition. I 
had no idea where you were going to land us, 
until we reached the shore.” 

Mr. Dunning was announced to lecture the 
following week and the hall was filled at an 
early hour. Many of those present had seen 
him in his days of darkness ; and all knew 
the story of his life. 

The occasion inspired him. He was look- 
ing his best as he rose to speak, and in a 
voice full of pathos uttered the single word 
intemperance.” A pause and then again 
he pronounced this word so fraught with terri- 
ble meaning. Intemperance. Tlie curse of 
our land and of the world.” 

As it would be impossible for me to do jus- 
tice to what followed, I forbear the attempt. 


246 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


The speaker testified to what he knew ; al- 
though he made no pretence to relating his 
personal experience. 

For more than an hour he held the au- 
dience spell bound. Old men wept, and young 
men trembled in view of the danger whi-eh 
threatened them. At the close of the lecture, 
comments were made in an under tone, while 
many gentlemen went forward to the platform 
and thanked their townsman for the words he 
had spoken. 

Not all were pleased. There were some 
who, like Alfred Hanson, sneered at the fanat- 
icism which waxed eloquent over the danger 
lurking in a glass of wine. They acknowl- 
edged neither the truth of the facts stated, or 
the conclusions drawn therefrom. 

Dunning will make himself very unpopu- 
lar if he goes on in this way,” said one wine 
drinker to another. I don’t intend to hear 
any more such talk. It aint what I pay my 
money for.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


247 


“ Don’t be too fast, Burrill,” was the reply. 

Dunning won’t receive a cent for his lecture, 
and I guess it aint best to find much fault. 
He ought to be posted in the matter, and it’s 
always best to be on the safe side. I hope 
our young men will take warning.” 

All Dunning says won’t have any effect. 
It’s only about six years since he was as mis- 
erable a drunkard as could be found ; and 
now to think of his setting up to teach us our 
duty. I tell you he’ll ruin his business this 
way.” 

Time proved Mr. Burrill a false prophet. 
The lecture produced a decided effect upon 
many of the young men who heard it, and 
Mark Dunning was more popular in his .pro- 
fessional capacity than ever before. Those 
who differed from him in principles had un- 
bounded confidence in his honor and ability. 

You’ll need a partner soon,” remarked 
one of his friends. 


248 ' 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


I expect one,” was the reply. Arthur 
is coming into the office as soon as he is 
through college ; and he has read so much 
law at different times that he will soon be 
admitted to practice. Then I shall have a 
reliable partner ; and propose to take a little 
rest myself.” 

The whole family were looking forward 
impatiently to the time when Arthur should 
have completed his college course. Grace 
was at home enlivening the house with her 
presence, and realizing the fondest hopes of 
her parents. Equally fitted to shine in Mrs. 
Conant’s old fashioned kitchen, or in the ele- 
gant parlors of her more fashionable friends, 
she was everywhere welcomed and admired. 

Sympathizing with all who suffered and sor- 
rowed, her heart was most deeply moved for 
those who were forced to bear the shame and 
poverty incurred by a drunken father. Hav- 
ing born this burden, the pressure of which 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


24:0 


she could not yet quite forget, she knew how 
to pity others. 

For one family, consisting of six children, 
her sympathies were especially enlisted. The 
eldest of these, a boy twelve years of age, was 
a member of her class in Sabbath School, and 
as brave a little fellow as one would wish to 
see. It mattered not what the weather might 
be, he was always in his place, eager to recite 
the lessons he had so thoroughly learned. 

A* stranger to Grace, when she first took 
charge of the class, she learned, upon enquiry, 
that his father had recently moved into town. 

A good mechanic, when he is sober, and a 
tiger, when he is drunk,” was the description 
given of the father. Seth is the only one 
who can do anything with him ; and how he 
dares to try, is ‘more than I know. It’s a 
wonder how the family are fed or clothed. 
Seth works, whenever he can get a chance, and 
Mrs. Prescott is a wonderful manager. She 


250 


MARK running’s ENEMY. 


turns, and patches, and darns, so that every 
garment is made to do more than double 
duty.” 

Where do they live ? ” asked Grace, her 
interest increasing. 

“ In the old house on Mink hill,” was the 
reply. 

“But that house was tumbling down, the 
last time I saw it.” 

“ It looks very much like tumbling down 
now ; though Pfescott has patched it up, so 
it’s quite comfortable for summer.” 

Soon after this, Grace Dunning went to 
Mink hill, and found the old house propped, 
patched and occupied. Before reaching the 
house, however, she made the acquaintance of 
some children, and sitting down with them 
enjoyed their merry prattle and artless ways. 

“ Won’t you come and see mother ? ” asked 
the eldest of the group. “ She’ll be glad to 
see you. She’s so lonesome she cries some- 
times. Won’t you come ? ” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


251 


Come, pretty lady,” lisped a wee bit of a 
girl. Come, see mother. Father’s gone.” 

And where is brother Seth ? I am his 
Sabbath School teacher.” 

“ Oh, are you ? ” was the joyful exclama- 
tion. “ He told us about you and he’ll be so 
sorry he’s gone. But perhaps he’ll come back 
quick. He’s, gone into the woods with his 
cart. The man said we might have the dry 
sticks to burn, and Seth says it will take a 
great deal for next winter.” 

Mrs. Prescott was mending an old garment 
when the children came toward the house 
with their visitor ; one carrying a basket, 
while the other two held her fast by the hand. 

“ It’s Seth’s Sabbath School teacher,” said 
Margaret. 

‘‘ Miss Dunning, I am glad to see you,” 
said a pale, tired-looking woman laying aside 
her work. “ Seth has talked so much of his 
new teacher that I have felt almost acquainted 
with you.” 


252 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


‘‘ And I have been so much interested in 
him, that I improved the first opportunity to 
call upon him.” 

I am very sorry he is not at home to see 
you. You have taken a long walk.” 

It did not seem very long,” replied Grace. 
“ I think I walked rapidly however, and am a 
little tired. I took a book and some lunch 
with me, intending to rest by the way ; but I 
walked straight on.” 

‘‘ You can rest here now,” said one of the 
children. 

‘‘ Yes, so I can ; and that will be pleasanter 
than resting by the way.” 

To Mrs. Prescott the sight of a happy face 
was a great pleasure ; and feeling almost ac- 
quainted with her guest, they chatted for an 
hour very socially. 

“ I asked Seth to bring his sisters to 
school,” remarked the young lady. 

^‘He told us and I wish they could go,” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


253 


replied Mrs. Prescott. They would like it 
very much, too ; but I can’t manage to fit 
them out quite yet. I hope they can go 
another year.” 

“ Brother Seth has Sabbath School after he 
comes home,” said Margaret. “We say 
lessons just as he does, and he talks what 
you tell him and reads to us. He sings, too, 
and we sing with him. It’s nice, but it would 
be nicer if we could go where the other chil- 
dren do.” 

Grace knew how sensitive this poor mother 
must be, yet she ventured to express the wish 
that she might be permitted to assist in 
clothing the children. “ 'Vy'e liave some out- 
grown garments at home, which we have been 
wishing to make useful,” she said. “ We 
shall be very glad if you will accept them,” 
and thus delicately offered, Mrs.. Prescott 
could not refuse the charity. 

“ Seth is coming,”, exclaimed one of the 


254 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


girls, and directly she had told her brother 
that his Sabbath School teacher was waiting 
to see him. 

‘‘ Why, you don’t say Miss Dunning is 
here,” was the boy’s reply. 

Yes, she is,” said Margaret. She’s 
been here a good while ; and mother looks as 
happy as can be. Come right in, and see 
her.”' 

Looking as I do now ? No, indeed. I’ve 
got some washing to do first.” 

The washing made him presentable, and his 
face was all aglow with pleasure, when his 
teacher shook hands with him. 

‘‘ So you are getting in your winter’s supply 
of wood,” she said. 

Trying to do a little towards it,” was the 
modest reply. “ Mother likes dry wood, and 
Mr. Little wants it picked up ; so I help them 
both, when I don’t have other work to do.” 

‘‘ That is right. Do anything that is hon- 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


255 


est, rather than he idle. I should have known 
that you were an industrious boy, by the 
way your lessons are learned. And you have 
a Sabbath School here at home, too.” 

Not much of one,” answered Seth, with a 
blush. ‘‘ I try to help my sisters a little, and 
they can learn lessons.” 

Yes, they have told me 'about it, and I 
think it is a very nice plan. I should like to 
come to your Sabbath School, myself.” 

At this, all the children laughed, and the 
last vestige of restraint was banished. 

In all that had been said, the father’s name 
was not mentioned ; and well could Grace un- 
derstand the silence. Those whom death 
makes orphans can still speak of him whose 
love once blessed them ; but to those who are 
worse than orphaned, by intemperance, is 
granted no such boon. 

Seth was in a state of delight, when Miss 
' Dunning went to look at his wood pile, and 


256 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


listened with interest to his plans for increas- 
ing its size. 

It’s an old place here. If I was a man, 
I’d have a good house, with nice things in it,” 
said the boy. 

When you are a man, I expect you will be 
a very good one,” replied his teacher. 

I shall try,” was the answer. I want to 
be such a man, that mother will be proud of 
me.” 

“ I have no doubt you will. You are be- 
ginning in the right way, and I shall be very 
glad to help you, if I can.” 

“ Why, you have helped me. Miss Dunning. 
You say just the right things to me Sundays ; 
and I come home feeling as though I could do 
almost anything. There’s one thing, though, 
I can’t do,” he added, after some hesitation. 

What is it ? ” asked Grace, laying her 
hand lightly oh his shoulder. 

“ I don’t know as I ought to say,” he an- 
swered. ‘‘ I want to tell you, though.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 257 

‘‘ Then tell me ; and you may be sure I can 
keep it a secret, if you wish.” 

‘‘ I want to make father stop drinking,” 
was sobbed forth. “ If you would only help 
me do that, I should be so glad.” 

will try, Seth. I don’t know exactly 
how, but I shall try, in some way. What 
shall you do, to-morrow ? ” 

‘‘ Go into the woods again, I suppose, when 
I have mended my cart. I broke it, this 
afternoon.” 

‘‘ Can you find time to come to our house, 
some time during the day ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, yes, if you want me to,” answered the 
boy, with sparkling eyes. I know where 
it is.” 

“ Then come down as early in the morning 
as you please ; and perhaps I shall find some 
work for you to do.” 

I should like that,” was the reply. I 


W^nt to earn some money.” 


258 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


Grace went again into the house, said a few 
encouraging words to Mrs. Prescott, and took 
her basket. “ Why, here is my lunch, now,” 
she remarked, smiling. • I don’t feel willing 
to carry it over the road twice ; so if these 
children will allow me, I will give it to 
them.” 

It was evident the gift would be appreciated, 
although only Margaret said, Thank you. 
Miss Dunning.” No sooner, however, was 
Grace well out of hearing than one of the 
yotmger children exclaimed, She must been 
awful hungry to want so much just for lunch.” 

Brother Seth must have a cake, ’cause 
she's his teacher,” and away ran ^ Tot ’ with 
the largest cake she could grasp. 

Seth was hammering at his cart, hungry 
enough to eat even a dry piece of bread, yet 
he did not touch the cake offered by his sister. 

Eat it,” she urged. It’s real nice.” 

Don’t doubt it,” was the reply. But 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


259 


then you see I’m busy. Must get this cart 
ready for my next journey.” 

Margaret next appeared, and after looking 
admiringly at her’ brother as he worked said, 
‘‘ This has been a good day.” 

“ Yes, so it has,” answered Seth. ‘‘ But 
I expect to-morrow will be better. I’m going 
to Miss Dunning’s house.” 

I wish I was going, too,” rejoined the 

sister. I wish Miss Dunning had asked 

, , % 
me. 

Miss Dunning, herself, wished the same 
thing. She was* anxious that her mother 
should see the whole family. I know you 
would like them,” she said. 

“ I am sure I should sympathize with 
them,” was the response. I will do what I 
can to help them ; and when I have seen Seth, 
I can judge better how help should be given.” 

.Seth had been told to come early, and as 
his ideas of time were somewhat in advance 


260 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


of most people, he presented himself at Mr. 
Dunning’s while the family were at breakfast. 

‘‘ That speaks well for him,” said the law- 
yer. I think I’ll talk with him a little.” 

The boy made friends of all. Barton 
thought him quite a wonder ; especially after a 
confidential chat in which there were some 
mutual revelations of personal experience. 

I should like to come up and see you 
some day, Seth.” 

I wish you would,” replied the visitor. 

Perhaps, though, you wouldn’t like it. It’s 
an awful old house and old tilings in it ; ” but 
of course Barton didn’t care for that, unless 
the description may have made him all the 
more anxious to visit his new friend. 

Easier coming down hill than going up as 
Seth found ; for what with a large bundle and 
a somewhat heavy basket he made slow pro- 
gress, although at the outset he had been 
quite sure he could carry them just as well as 
not. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


261 


“ There, mother, see what I’ve brought,” he 
exclaimed as soon as he entered the house. 
‘‘ Mrs. Dunning sent them, and I’m going to 
work ; and you shall have some new things 
besides.” 

After this, means were found to reach Mr. 
Prescott, so that he was induced to give up 
the use of intoxicating drink for a certain 
length of time ; and the allotted term of ab- 
stinence had nearly expired when Mark Dun- 
ning delivered his lecture upon intemperance. 

‘‘ Mr. Prescott, I am very glad to see you 
here,” said the lawyer, when from the crowd 
which gathered round him a hard, rough 
hand was extended to grasp his own. 

I’m glad to be here,” was the reply. 

And I’m glad you’ve told us the truth with- 
out keeping back any of it. It’s done me 
good. Perhaps you’ll know how much, some- 
time.” 

After this what mattered the criticism of 


262 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


wine drinkers or rumsellers ? The good 
which had been accomplished far outweighed 
all other considerations. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Temptation’s hour; — 

It comes at length, 

To test the power 
Of human .strength. 

EN years since that wild November 
night, when Alfred Hanson heard 
himself denounced as traitor and vil- 
lain. Yet even now, the terrible 
words seemed ringing in his ears, as, sitting 
with bowed head, he forgot the present, in the 
past. 

But forgetfulness coiild not be long. Pres- 
ent interests demanded immediate attention ; 
and, indeed, it was this very demand which 
sent his thoughts back to the past. A letter, 
directed to his wife, and written by his son. 



263 


/ 


264 MARK DUimiNG’S ENEMY. 

lay upon the table before him. Walter had 
asked for money. 

Don’t let father see this ; and don’t tell 
him that I want money. He always blames 
me, and so does Flo. I know you can get it, 
just as you have before, and I will be more 
careful about spending.” 

Thus read the letter* ; and but for Mrs. 
Hanson’s absence from home, the secret would 
have been carefully guarded. 

Better even than money or position did this 
father love his son. Affection and pride were 
both deeply wounded. True, he had often 
blamed Walter; yet through all, he could not 
believe his boy guilty of more than youthful 
indiscretions, which time would cure.. Now, 
he was convinced otherwise. 

He deliberated as to what should be done. 
To wait for his wife’s return, and appeal to 
her for an account of the money she had 
already sent, was the first plan which sug- 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


265 


gested itself, only to be rejected, as he well 
knew she would screen Walter, at any sacri- 
fice. Perhaps Flora could give some informa- 
tion. Mr. Hanson summoned her, and in an 
abrupt manner, asked how long since she 
had heard from Walter. 

He never writes to me,” was the reply. 

He writes to your mother.” 

‘‘ Yes, sir. But I never see the letters, and 
she doesn’t tell me anything he writes.” 

‘‘ How much money have you left of your 
last q^uarter’s allowance ? ” 

Flora blushed as this question was asked, 
thus increasing her father’s suspicion ; and as 
she hesitated to reply, the question was re- 
peated in a somewhat different form. 

I haven’t much,” she said. 

‘‘ How much ? ” 

Always truthful, she answered, “ I have a 
little more than a dollar.” 

Do you mean to say that is all the money 
you have ? ” 


266 


MARK DUNNING^S ENEMY. 


Yes, sir,” and now she looked her father 
full in the face. 

And it is only a month since I gave you 
what ^'you said was sufficient for three. I 
don’t understand how you can have spent so 
much. How is it?” 

I wish you would excuse me from telling 
you, father. I shall not ask for any more.” 

Do you expect to get through the next 
two months with only a dollar ? ” 

‘‘Yes, sir.” 

“ I hardly think I shall allow you to do 
that,” said Mr. Hanson, giving his daughter a 
small roll of bills. “ Now I must insist upon 
your telling me how you spent your money. 
I have a particular reason for wishing to 
know.” 

“ I didn’t spend it,” she answered, letting 
the roll of bills fall from her hand. “ I loaned 
it.” 

“ To whom ? ” 

“ To mother.” 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


267 


Have you ever loaned money to her 
before ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, sir, several times.” 

And has she repaid you ? ” 

No, sir. But please don’t tell her. I 
don’t care for the money, and I don’t wish 
you to give me any more.” 

I don’t choose to have you penniless,” 
was the only reply vouchsafed to this. Take 
those bills, and never loan money again, while 
I provide for you.” 

Poor Flora left the library with a lieavy 
'heart. She could not have refused to answer 
her father’s questions ; yet answering them 
might involve her in a world of trouble. And 
it was all for Walter. He was not truthful 
and honorable. She had learned that by bit- 
ter experience, and she feared he was even 
worse than he seemed. 

She met her father at the tea table ; but he 
made no allusion to what had passed between 


268 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


them in the library. Only that he ate less 
than usual, and wore a more forbidding frown, 
there was no change in his appearance. 

Do you expect to hear from your mother 
while she is gone ? ” he asked, as he was 
leaving the room. 

‘‘ No, sir,” she replied. Mother never 
writes to me.” 

‘‘ Well, good night. I am going away early 
in the morning and may not be back for 
several days. I have some business to attend 
to.” 

Flora could only wonder, and wait. The 
next day she received a note' from her mother 
containing the injunction, “ If a letter comes 
to me from Walter, let no one see it. Burn it, 
and say nothing about it. I have seen Walter, 
and he says he has written to me. I shall 
be at home next week.” 

Meanwhile, Mr. Hanson saw his son, and 
learned some facts which proved his worst 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


269 


fears true. He read aloud the letter which 
had been written to a foolish mother, and in- 
tended for no eye but hers. 

“ You see now it is of no use to deny any- 
thing,” said the father. Tell me how much 
money your mother has sent you.” 

I don’t know,” was the reply. 

‘‘ Don’t know ! ” repeated Mr. Hanson, 
sternly. Tell me at once, or I shall find other 
means of discovering the truth. We must 
have a fair settlement now. Somebody here 
knows how you have spent money.” 

I’ve only done as others do,” said the 
boy in a deprecating tone. I didn’t mean 
to spend so much money.” 

‘‘ It isn’t the money I care for, Walter. I 
can pay that. But you are forming habits 
which will injure you through your whole life. 
I want you to be a prosperous, honorable 
man. I am growing old, and I depend a 
great deal upon you. You have disappointed 
and mortified me.” 


270 MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 

The 3f)uiig mail had beerta little moved by 

his father’s expression of solicitude ; but 

» 

when the old, hard tone was resumed, his 
heart rebelled, and he resolved not to ac- 
knowledge his short comings. 

This resolution, however, was of no avail. 
He found himself where confession was the 
only means of avoiding public disgrace ; yet, 
even then, he was not frank and truthful as 
he should have been. 

‘‘ Tell me how much will pay your whole 
indebtedness,” said the father. “1 have 
come prepared to settle every bill.” 

After some calculation, Walter named a 
sum which he said would be amply sufficient 
to pay every cent he owed ; and Mr. Hanson 
counted out the money. 

‘‘ Now go out and pay your bills, and then 
come back to me. 1 have something more to 
say to you.” 

Walter did as directed, returning with re- 


MARK DUI^NING’S ENEMY. 


271 


ceipted bills which his father carefully pre- 
served. Then there was a long evening be- 
fore them from which neither could anticipate 
much pleasure. 

I should do Mr. Hanson the justice to say, 
that he really wished to impress his son with- 
the necessity of uprightness and temperance 
in all things. Unfortunately, however, the 
young man had formed a very correct esti- 
mate of his father’s character ; and while ap- 
pearing to listen with respect, was, in reality, 
considering how he should manage to deceive 

the governor,” when out of the way. Pre- 
cept must be enforced by example. To talk 
of uprightness was one thing, to practice it, 
quite another. 

In the morning, after an interview with the 
Principal of the school, Mr. Hanson again 
spoke to his son, if possible, more decidedly 
than before. 

‘‘ Don’t let me hear any further complaints 


272 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


of you,” be said. I can’t have people say 
that my son behaves in a manner unbecoming 
a gentleman. Your old schoolmate, Barton 
Dunning, will come out a great w^s ahead 
of you, if you are not careful.” 

He always was ahead of me every way,” 
was the reply. 

There is no reason why he should be,” re- 
joined the father, anxious to rouse his son’s 
ambition, by comparing him with others. 
‘‘ Barton has no better abilities than you. He 
is going to be a farmer, too, and we don’t ex- 
pect quite so much of farmers as we do of 
merchants and professional men.” 

If I was Barton, I wouldn’t be a farmer,” 
said Walter, quickly. He could be just as 
sipart as Arthur, and 1 don’t see what he’s 
thinking of, to settle down and dig in the dirt. 
He’s a good fellow, though, anywhere, and 
he’s got the pleasantest home I know of.” 

“ You don’t think it’s as pleasant as The 
Oaks, do you, Walter ? ” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


273 


“ I don’t know,” was the careless answer. 

I was thinking of the inside of his home. 
Ours is a nice place, though. Everybody says 
that, and I’m proud of living there.” 

“ Then make yourself worthy of being its 
owner. Don’t disappoint me.” 

Mrs. Hanson reached home sooner than was 
expected. Her anxiety in regard to Walter’s 
letter,, and her desire to comply with his re- 
quest, induced her to shorten her absence. 
As no letter had been seen, she was obliged 
to wait for an explanation, until her husband’s 
return. 

Then there was a stormy interview ; harsh 
reproach on one side, and bitter complaints oil 
the other ; stern demands of full confession, 
and weak dissembling. At last, Mrs. Hanson 
had recourse to tears ; and in her confusion, 
attempted to throw some blame upon Flora, 
when, for once, her husband asserted the 
rights of his daughter. 


274 MARK Dunning’s enemy, 

Flora jealous of Walter ! ” be exclaimed, 
repeating her accusation. “ Why should she 
be ? She is an elegant young lady, and a 
good scholar. No one except you has ever 
complained of her ; and I am afraid the poor 
girl has not been very happy at home. - She 
has always given up to Walter, in everything, 
and I shall see that she has justice done her 
in future.” 

Well might the lady look up in astonish- 
ment, at this strange outburst, so strange that 
she could think of no reply. 

‘‘ Another thing,” her husband continued, 
Flora is not to be blamed for any part of this 
affair. She knows nothing about the letter re- 
ceived while you were away ; and I charge 
you not to speak of it. There is no reason 
why she should be troubled, because Walter 
does wrong.” 

This charge was regarded ; yet Flora could 
not avoid feeling troubled, whenever she 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


275 


thought of her brother. She always prayed 
for him, and while with him, sought in every 
possible way to do him good. 

‘‘ I am tired of school,” he said to her, in a 
fretful tone, the first day he was at home for a 
vacation. It’s nothing but study, from one 
week’s beginning to another, until I wish 
there wasn’t a book in the world. I never 
was made for a scholar. I want to go into a 
large store, where there is something going 
on. Father’s always harping about a pro- 
fession. It’s no use, though. I won’t stay in 
school much longer, to please anybody.” 

‘‘ Don’t talk so, Walter,” replied his sister, 
gently. You ought to do as father wishes 
to have you, and you should have a good edu- 
cation, whether you study a profession or 
not.” 

Don’t harp on that string any more,” was 
the impatient response. “ A good deal girls 
know about such things. I tell you I’m going 


276 


MARK DUNNING^’S ENEMY, 


to be a merchant, and live in the city. Bart 
Dunning may settle down in this one horse 
place, if he wants to. I shan’t. Don’t you 
get tired of it yourself, Flo ? ” he asked, in a 
softer tone. I really believe you’ve grown 
thin and pale, since I was at home before, and 
I presume it all comes of staying here. Miser- 
able hole, any way ! ’ 

‘‘How can you talk so of our pleasant 
home, Walter ? ” 

“ Pshaw ! How can I ? Easy enough. 
I’m only telling the truth, and you know it.” 

“ You used to think The Oaks a nice place, 
brother.” 

“ So I did, and so I do now,” was the 
reply. “ I’m talking about this town. But I 
must be off. By the way, Flo, I wish you 
would loan me five dollars for a day or two. 
I’m a little short of change just now.” 

“ I will give you five dollars,” she answered 
going from the room, and returning directly 
with the money. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


277 


Loaning or giving was all the, same to him 
who received it ; as he would never think of 
repaying in either case. Going out he en- 
countered Barton Dunning, walking briskly, 
with quite the air of a business man. “ Ah, 
Barton, how are you ? ” he exclaimed. 

Well, always well,” was the hearty reply. 

Such a day as this sends the blood through 
my veins in double quick time ; and I hope 
you are enjoying the same blessing, as people 
sometimes write. This is a brave, old world, 
isn’t it ? ” 

“ I begin to think it is, since I’ve seen you, 
thougli, ten minutes ago I was ready to say 
all manner of bad things about it.” 

How could you do that, Walter? I feel 
like shouting, just because I’m here.” 

“ WTiew ! was the responsive ejaculation. 
“ Let me get a good look at you so I may be 
sure it’s really my old schoolmate. You used 
to be a quiet sort of a fellow ; but you grow 


278 MARK Dunning’s enemy. 

so fast no wonder you feel like shouting. 
Where are you going to stop ? ” 

‘‘ Don't know. Come over and see us some 
evening, and I’ll tell you my impression on 
the subject.” 

And that’s Bart Dunning is it,” said 
Walter to a mutual acquaintance a moment 
after. 

It appears to be,” was the laughing an- 
swer. 

So I think. But he’s changed the most 
of anybody I ever saw. He’s got on an extra 
amount of steam some* way. What’s up ? ” 

‘‘ Nothing new. He’s the smartest fellow 
in town, any way. Beats his brother all out, 
and will beat his father if he lives long 
enough. I suppose you know his father has 
bought a farm, and Bart is going to carry it 
on.” 

“ Fool for doing that,” replied Walter. 
“No need of his digging in the dirt. He can 


have his choice, and so can I.” 


MAUK Dunning’s enemy. 


279 


Flora Hanson and her brother spent an 
evening at Mr. Dunning’s ; the latter coming 
away with a stronger impression than before, 
that it was the pleasantest home* he had ever 
seen. 

^‘Flo, don’t you wish our father- and mother 
were like Mr. and Mrs. Dunning ? ” he asked, 
so soon as they were out of the house. 

What a strange question ! ” she answered, 
evasively. 

Perhaps it is ; but I could say yes to it. 
I should be better than I am now, if other 
folks were different.” 

You can be good now, if you will. 0 
Walter, I think about you so much, and I am 
so anxious you should be a noble man.” 

“ Well, well, Flo, don’t preach. Don’t 
worry, either. I guess I shall turn out all 
right.” 

There were rumors that Grace Dunning 
would soon be married to a classmate of her 


280 MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 

brother ; while in regard to the matrimonial 
prospects of the brother himself, there was 
much curiosity. He seemed wholly absorbed 
in his profession ; yet no one who understood 
his warm, affectionate nature, believed this 
could satisfy him. Respectful, courteous and 
gallant, he held the even tenor of his way, 
unheeding comment or gossip. 

His father depended upon him, trusted his 
judgment and knowledge, and was wont to 
call him a strong tower.” Arthur, in return, 
was proud of the father, whose brilliant tal- 
ents, elegant manners, and unswerving in- 
tegrity, made him conspicuous, wherever he 
might be. 

He was popular, aiid the political party, of 
which he was a member, looking for a man 
who would represent their interests in Con- 
gress, and command the largest number of 
votes in the district, selected him as best 
suited to their purpose. He was visited and 
assured of the nomination.* 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


281 


Of course you will accept/’ said one of his 
friends. ‘‘ Congress is just the place for you, 
and your constituents will have reason to be 
proud of you.” 

Mark Dunning was ambitious. When a 
boy, he had dreamed of sitting among the 
honored of the nation ; and now he might 
realize this dream. His voice should be 
heard in the halls of Congress, always for the 
right. What might he not accomplish ? The 
whole world seemed spread out before him, 
that he might choose from its glorious gifts, to 
crown his life. Mingled, too, with this bright 
vision, were glimpses of the past, and he who 
gazed was only human ; — it would be such a 
triumph to honor the name he bore, as none 
other liad honored it. 

His pulse quickened, and he longed to be 
alone, that he might give free rein to his 
fancy. Yet there sat his friends, waiting for 
an answer ; and when given, so well modu- 


282 MxiRK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 

lated was his voice, that not one divined the 
tumult within his breast. He expressed his 
appreciation of the honor they would do him, 
and tendered his thanks ; but he must take 
time for consideration, before consenting to be 
publicly nominated for the office in question. 

Time for consideration, Dunning ! What 
do you mean by that ? ” was the surprised re- 
joinder. Why, man, I thought anybody 
would accept such a nomination, at sight. 
I’m disappointed in you. I thought you’d 
come to the front, gladly.” 

“ So I would,” replied Mr. Dunning. I 
am not insensible to the honor. But I must 
take time to think of it.” 

“ How long ? ” 

Two days!” 

“ Well, honors improve by keeping, the 
same as good wine ; so we shall count on you*, 
sure.” 

Arthur was not in the oflSce, and after his 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


283 


friends left, the lawyer had a half hour to 
himself; but he was forced to confess that 
only one side of the question had been con- 
sidered. He would consult his wife and chil- 
dren ; not, perhaps, that he should be gov- 
erned by their -decision, but that he might 
himself decide more wisely. 

Mrs. Dunning listened patiently, interrupt- 
ing no one of his enthusiastic remarks. 

Have you decided to accept the nomina- 
tion ? ” she asked, as he paused for a reply. 

No, my dear, 1 would not do that, before 
talking with you. Yet I confess, Grace, that 
it stirs my blood, only to think of it.” 

And you would like to go to Washington, 
as representative from this district ? ” 

Indeed I should,” he replied, with the ut- 
most frankness. I was an ambitious boy, 
and I am beginning to think that fifty years 
of life has intensified my ambition. Wouldn’t 
you like to spend a season in Washington 
yourself ? ” 


284 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


‘‘ I am not anxious in regard to it/’ she 
answered, with a smile. Let us talk of 
something else, now.” 

It was useless to think of this, however. 
One subject engrossed the attention of Mark 
Dunning, to the exclusion of all others. 

Arthur can attend to business here,” he 
said. It will give him an opportunity to 
try his powers, unaided ; and he needs just 
that discipline.” 

And do you, Mark, need the discipline of 
a sojourn in Washington ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, he replied, a little impatiently. 

There, I can measure myself with others, 
and learn of what manner of man I am.” 

Mrs. Dunning was silent. Arthur came in, 
looking grave and abstracted. 

Anything wi*ong, my son ? ” 

‘‘ Nothing wrong, so far as business is con- 
cerned,” was the reply. 

I am glad to hear that. I should be 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


285 


sorry to have any business trouble, just now.’’ 

66 Why just now ? ” 

“ Because I have other things to think of.” 

Arthur knew to what reference was made ; 
but choosing to conceal this knowledge, waited 
for his father to speak more plainly. 

Conversation revealed the fact that there 
was no thought of declining the honor which 
had been proffered. . 

‘‘ What do you think of it, Arthur ? Can 
you look after matters here ? ” 

“ I should do my best, if left in charge of 
them,” the son answered, in a constraineci? 
voice. 

Just then, one of the leading politicians of 
the town called to express his views, and de- 
sired to see the lawyer alone. There was to 
be an exciting campaign. The candidate of 
the opposing party was a strong- man. 

‘‘We expect to fight hard,” said the poli- 
tician, in his interview with Mark Dunning. 


286 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


But we’re sure of success, with you for a 
leader. Some of us have had you in mind 
through all the last four years ; and now, 
everything looks fair. There’s no doubt about 
your acceptance, I suppose. We want to have 
a preliminary meeting to-morrow evening, and 
talk the thing up ; see how we stand, and all 
that. You understand. There’ll be a dozen 
gentlemen present, more or less ; and we 
shall expect a decided aeceptance from you. 
We can carry your nomination in convention, 
and then speeches and interviews must fol- 
low.” 

There was no dissent from this ; and the 
next evening, a dozen gentlemen were seated 
in a private room in the hotel, with every ap- 
pearance of being comfortable. . 

Mr. Dunning was late ; and when he en- 
tered, it was observed that his face was 
flushed, and his whole manner in striking con- 
trast with the usual calm demeanor which 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


. 287 

characterized him. He was acting against 
the strongly expressed wishes of his family. 
But he' soon forgot this, and talked with ani- 
mation of the various interests discussed. 

I know you have the reputation of being a 
tee-totaler, Dunning ; but I suppose you won’t 
object if the rest of us drink to your success,” 
said one of the gentlemen, while another made 
some remark, which, for the moment, claimed 
attention. 

Wine was brought, and its fumes filled the 
room, while glasses clinked, and good wishes 
were expressed. “ Here’s a glass for our 
honorable nominee.” 

Mark Dunning reached forth his hand. He 
endeavored to make some apology for follow- 
ing the example of his companions ; but his 
lips uttered no sound. Excited, maddened, 
he raised the glass, and drained it to the last 
drop. 

At that moment, he felt within him two 


288 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


forces, contending for the mastery ; and the 
very fierceness of the struggle held his brain 
in abeyanoe. Horrified at what he had done, 
pride, will, and conscience ' were arrayed 
against the fierce thirst, which a partial indul- 
gence had increased. 

Yet those who looked upon him saw noth- 
ing of all this. They fancied he had, for this 
one occasion, broken his rule of abstinence ; 
and one was about to make a remark to that 
effect, when the glass he had drained was 
shivered to atoms. 

Gentlemen ” — Like a wail of agony, this 
smote upon every listener — “I cannot accept 
the nomination you have tendered me. I 
have gone back ten years of my life. I do 
not blame you ; but if I am again a drunkard, 
it will because I met you here this evening. I 
dared to think I was strong. I have learned 
that I am weak.” 

‘‘ Take away the wine,” was said, in a low 
tone, and the table was cleared at once. 


MARK DUJijNING’S ENEMY. 


289 


You don’t mean that you are going to de- 
sert us, now, and let this opportunity for your- 
self go by,” one at length found voice to say. 

I mean all I have said, and more,” was 
the reply. You must find a candidate for 
office elsewhere ; ” and before remonstrance 
could be made, the speaker had left the room. 

In the hall he paused for a moment, irreso- 
lute ; then raising his hands, as if in prayer, 
hastened down the steps, into the street. 

How could he meet his wife and children ! 
Oh, the dark, terrible th oughts which assailed 
him ! Honor and distinction were now of 
little worth. His dream liad passed. 

Burdened well nigh to fainting, he staggered 
on, each step bringing him nearer home. He 
stood by the gate, leaning against one of its 
supports, wondering how he stiould reveal the 
shame which had come to him. He was 
conscious of a vague feeling of ijisecurity and 
weakness, like what he had known in former 


290 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


years; then all was a . blank, until lie fojund 
himself lying upon a lounge, in the family 
sitting-room. 

“ Go for the doctor,” Grace was saying in 
an anxious tone. ‘‘ Father will die. I know 
he will.” 

Shall I go ? ” asked Barton. 

No,’’ answered his brother. “ We can 
do all that is necessary. Mother, please sit 
down and leave father to me.” 

Mrs. Dunning could not but yield to this 
request. Sinking into a chair she covered 
her face and wept aloud. 

Mother, mother, don’t give way so,” cried 
Arthur. We must be calm.” 

The prostrate man heard this, and suffered 
the keenest agony, even while unable to give 
any token of his consciousness. 

Has father been drinking again ? ” asked 
Barton, hurriedly. 

‘‘lam afraid so,” answered Arthur. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


291 


Then I should like to die this minute,” 
said the younger brother. ‘‘I don’t want to 
live and have a drunkard for a father.” 

“ You had better leave the room,” was the 
only reply made to this.. 

The door was opened and closed, then 
again ; and only the mother remained with 
her eldest son. It must be as Barton sus- 
pects,” she said. “ I feared it ; but he would 
not listen to me. God help us^ for mortal 
arm has failed.” 

During this time the son had not relaxed 
his efforts , for the relief of Ins father ; and 
soon the words were whispered, ‘‘ Don’t judge 
me until you have heard all.” 

Mrs. Dunning sprang to her husband, and 
Arthur went out to return when summoned, 
after the lapse of a few minutes. 

I am going to stay with you now,” said 
his father. “ I am sorry I did not take your 
advice ; but the old must sometimes learn by 


292 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


experience as well as the young, and I have 
learned ray lesson. Call Grace and Barton. 
I wish you all to hear what I have to say.” 

In a few words the events of the evening 
were recounted. Now, can you forgive 
rae ? ” he asked, sadly, looking around upon 
those he loved. 

For reply, Grace threw herself into his 
arras ; Barton leaned upon his shoulder ; while 
Arthur, feeling none the less, clasped his 
hand. 

Prayer closed the evening, giving promise 
of good ; yet the next morning, greetings 
were exchanged in a subdued tone, and 
pale faces gathered round the table. Arthur 
waited to walk to the office with his father ; 
and when there they discussed the advantages 
and disadvantages of public life, frankly. 

It is not for me,” said Mr. Dunning. “ I 
know it, now ; and it was better that I should 
meet temptation and fall at once, than be led 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


293 


on step by step. My punishment is great, 
but I thank God, my son, that nothing bars 

your way. I might hope to rise, if ” 

Father ! ” 

“ I know all you would say, Arthur. Much 
is given me, yet there is more within my 
reach which I dare not grasp. You will 
never know the shame and wretchedness I 
feel.” 

It was not easy to commence work that 
morning. Physically and mentally, Mark 
Dunning was wholly unfitted for it. Despite 
his prayers and efforts at self control, a spirit 
of recklessness half mastered him. More 
than once in the past he had said that to 
drink one glass of wine would make his ruin 
sure ; and now it required almost superhuman 
efforts to prove this prediction false. Often, 
during those morning hours, he retired to an 
iiineV room that he might be alone with God. 

In the afternoon two of the gentlemen 


294 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


whom he had met the previous evening called, 
and ignoring what had then transpired asked 
for his decision. 

I have not changed mj mind,” he an- 
swered, seriously. Much as I am flattered 
by the preference you have expressed, I can- 
not take advantage of it. You would have 
reason to regret my acceptance.” 

We are willing to run all risks of that,” 
was the response. Leave that part to us, 
und allow us to give you the nomination.” 

No, gentlemen, I cannot do it. You 
know my weakness.” 

We know you'r strength,” interrupted 
one. You can command more votes than 
any other man in the district, and you owe it 
to your party to come forward.” 

I cannot do it,” said Mr. Dunning. 
“ Command me in any other way and I am 
at your service.” ' 

Much more was said ; but all did not shake 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


295 


tbe lawyer’s resolution. People were aston- 
ished at so strange an event. That a man 
would decline an honorable position for which 
he was eminently fitted, was beyond the com- 
prehension of ordinary mortals. A mutual 
pledge made by those present when he yielded 
to temptation, bound them to secrecy ; while 
regard for his family sealed his own lips. 

One, every way his inferior was nominated 
in convention, and by the usual appliances 
was elected. Mark Dunning made many 
brilliant speeches during the campaign ; often 
eliciting the remarks, He’s the man to send 
to Congress. We’ll have him next time.” 

Barlon, who had been quite crushed by his 
father’s misfortune, was beginning to feel 
again that life was of some value ; and made 
preparations for a vigorous spring’s work. 
His farm was to be a model, and his crops the 
best of their kind. 

‘‘ I expect you would like some money to 
start with,” said his father. 


296 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


“ Yes, sir, if you please to loan it to me,’’ 

» 

was the reply. ‘‘ I intend to pay my way, 
and shall return every dollar of it.” 

‘‘ Don’t be too sure, my son.” 

“ Well, if I can’t pay my way farming. I’ll 
try something else. I can’t live on a six- 
pence either, unless it is necessary, and it 
won’t be as long as 1 have hands and feet, 
with steam enough to keep them moving.” 

Our farmer will be an honor to the 
family,” remarked Grace, laughing. 

‘‘ Yes, miss, and a farmer will be needed 
among so many lawyers. You will all be 
glad to visit me, and drink of milk and 
honey.” 

“ So we shall, Barty. I’ve no doubt you 
will have the richest milk, and the sweetest 
honey, and the most generous heart, of any 
farmer in New England. What did I hear 
you say about Walter Hanson ? ” asked Grace, 
when her brother returned to the room, after a 
short absence. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 297 

‘‘ I said he was at home.” 

“ It is not time for \^cation.” 

“ No, Walter says he is tired of school ; but 
it is my opinion that school is tired of him. 
He looks like a hard boy.” 

‘‘ That is what troubles Flora. I knew 
something was wrong, the last time I saw her. 
She hardly smiled, except when we met.” 

“ I shouldn’t think she would smile,” said 
Barton. I’m glad Mr. Hanson isn’t m]/ 
father, if he does live at The Oaks.” 

‘‘ And what does Walter propose to do 
how ? ” 

‘‘ Go to the city. He don’t intend to dig 
for a living. He will be a merchant. There, 
now, I wonder what is the subject of Arthur’s 
brown study,” added Barton, abruptly, point- 
ing to his brother, who was coming slowly up 
the walk. You may always count on some- 
thing, when he looks like that ; and I, for one, 
should like to know what that something is. 


298 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


It’s of no use to ask, tliougli. I’ve learned 
that, by experience. But Arthur is a splen- 
did fellow, if he does keep his own secrets.” 
How do you know he has any to keep ? ” 

I judge him by others ; ” and away went 
the speaker, to look after his pet horse, and 
guard whatever secrets so young a man might 
have. 

Grace was anxious for her friend, and under 
the influence of what she was pleased to call 
a selfish sympathy, decided to invite Flora to 
spend the next day with her. ‘‘ Come early, 
and give me the whole day,” she wrote. 

Barton was the bearer of this note, and as 
was expected, brought back an acceptance of 
the invitation. I told her she ought to 
come before breakfast,” he said. 

And did she agree with you Y ” asked 
Grace. 

‘‘ She didn’t cZisagree with me,” was the 
reply. I am going for her with my new 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 299 

wagon, and you may expect her bright and 
early. I suppose Arthur will envy me ; but I 
can’t help it.” 

Did you see Walter ? ” 

‘‘ No, he has gone away somewhere ; and 
Flora looked as though she liad been crying. 
If she was my sister, I should paint her 
cheeks.” 

‘‘ That would spoil her, entirely,” said Mr. 
Dunning. 

I guess you won’t think so, when you see 
how pale she is,” Barton replied. 

‘‘ I suppose Walter will spend the evening 
here,” remarked Arthur. 

‘‘ No, he is not expected back for several 
days, and I promised to see Flora safe home. 
So, Mr. Lawyer, you will not be troubled.” 

Not even Grace expected company to break- 
fast until she saw her brother drive out of 
the yard next morning ; and then she was not 
quite sure until shortly after when he ap- 
peared with Flora. 


300 


MARK -DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


“ Shall I be welcome so early ? ” asked the 
young lady, as her friend came out to meet 
her. 

“ You are welcome at any time,” was the 
reply. 

I told you so,” said Barton, laughing. 

Such a ride every morning would do you 
good ; and, excuse me, Miss Hanson, but it 
would improve your looks. You need a little 
more color.” 

In the house, the atmosphere which sur- 
rounded her made Flora appear at her best, 
although when the flush had faded from her 
cheek, no one could fail to observe that she 
was very pale. 

‘‘ How good it seems to be with you,” she 
said when alone with Grace. You rest me, 
and I am tired this spring.” 

You study too much,” replied her friend. 

No, my dear, I need study. I need it to 
occupy my thoughts. Mother is wholly ab- 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 301 

sorbed in Walter, and father attends to busi- 
ness ; while poor I must depend upon myself.” 

“ Depend upon me to-day, Flora. I am 
glad to have you here, and if I can help you 
in any way don’t hesitdte to tell me. ' I am 
anxious about you. You are not looking 
well. ^You should consult our good doctor.” 

“ He consulted me a few days ago,” was 
the smiling reply. 

‘‘ And what was prescribed ? ” 

Out of door exercise and cheerful thoughts. 
0 Grace, your brothers are so good you never 
need be anxious about them. Think what it 
would be if you were haunted by the fear 
that they would do some terrible thing. Such 
a fear for Walter is what tires me and makes 
life almost a burden,” she added, while tears 
sprang to her eyes. 

For the moment Grace could only weep ; 
but presently she said, Walter may be better 
than you think. He is young, and it may 


302 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


be from thoughtlessness that he does what 
troubles you. You must try to influence 
him.” 

But I can have no influence over him^ He 
does not seem to care for me. If he did I 
should cherish some hope. I must not tell 
even you how bad it is. Forgive me for 
having troubled you, and let us be happy this 
one day.” 

Mrs. Dunning’s entrance changed the tone 
of conversation, and soon Flora was occupied 
with a piece of new music ; and after this no 
allusion was made to Walter throughout the 
entire day. 

How many days we have spent together,” 
said Grace, as the twilight drew near. 

Yes, so many happy days. Ajj^d what 
shall I do when you are gone ? ” 

‘‘ Come and see me.” 

So I will, but ” 

No buts, • Flora. Look on the bright 


side.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


303 


To whom is that command ? ” asked 
Arthur, entering the room. 

For yourself, if you need it,” answered 
Grace, laughing. “ I thought you went to 
the ofBce.” 

I went, and returned to spend the evening 
with the ladies, if my company would be 
agreeable.” 

“ That depends, — ” rejoined his sister. 

Upon what ? ” asked the young gentle- 
man. 

‘‘ Upon your mood. If you are entertain- 
ing, stay, if gloomy, go.” 

Flora, I appeal to you. Shall I go or 
stay? ” 

“ Stay,” replied Flora, lightly. That is 
^what J-^hould say, if you were my brother.” 

And what you have said, as I am not your 
brother, I shall take advantage of your per- 
mission.” 

Barton came in, and without leave, asked 


304 MARK DUNNING’^S ENEMY. 

or granted, seated himself near their guest, 
and contributed his share to her entertain- 
ment. At the close of the evening, liowever, 
he complained of ill treatment. Arthur 
claimed the privilege of escorting Flora home, 
and in consideration of superior age, this was 
granted. 

“On one condition,” said the younger 
brother. “ Miss Flora Dunning must ride 
with me, before the week closes.” 

“ I shall be very happy to ride with you at 
any time,” was the laughing reply. “ I will 
give you a standing invitation to come for me, 
whenever you please.” 

“ Thank you, and be sure I shall avail my- 
self of your invitation. My horse and wagon 
are at your service, Mr. Lawyer ; and more, 
I will do duty as hostler. I don’t intend to 
show any ill nature, because you have super- 
seded me.” 

They parted merrily. Flora looking back to 


MARK DUNNING'S ENEMY. 


805 


assure the hostler ” that she would not for- 
get her promise. 

Are you in haste to reach home ? ” asked 
Arthur, after he had driven a short distance. 

‘‘ There is no reason why I should be,” re- 
plied his companion. 

“ Then we will go round the square, if you 
please. Once, this evening, you told me to 
stay ; tell me now to go.” 

‘‘ Go,” said Flora, softly, so softly that the 
horse did not hear ; but no one cared for that. 

It was only two miles round the square ; a 
short drive, which might be accomplished in 
few minutes. Had Barton held the reins, it 
would have been a quick dash ; but Arthur 
was not ambitious to display his skill in fast 
driving. He had a story to tell ; that old 
story, which, however much it may be em- 
bellished, is comprehended in the single sen- 
tence, “ I love you.” 

In the blushing face and downcast eyes of 
her who listened, he read the sweet confirma- 


306 MARK, DUNNING’S ENEMY. 

tioii of his hopes, which he afterwards heard, 
in low murmured words. Almost uncon- 
sciously to herself, Flora Hanson had loved 
Arthur Dunning, since she was a child. She 
knew this now, although she had before 
fancied that she thought of him only as a com- 
mon friend. She might have wondered at the 
late avowal of love, on his part, had he not 
frankly explained why •it had been delayed. 
His first duty was to his parents. 

“ So long ago as I was capable of realizing 
my father’s unfortunate condition, I resolved 
to save him, if it was possible ; and if not, to 
devote myself to my family. I would form no 
new ties, so long as there was a necessity for 
me at home. I have done what I considered 
my duty, and now ” — The conclusion of this 
sentence may be imagined, when I assure my 
readers that it was not only fitting and proper, 
but one which the select audience could fully 
appreciate. 

To-morrow, I shall see your father,” said 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


307 


Arthur, as he parted from Flora. Until 
then, good-bye.” 

‘‘ Been spending the day out ? ” asked Mr. 
Hanson, when his daughter came into the 
room where he was sitting. 

‘‘ Yes, sir.” 

Where ? ” 

At Mr. Dunning’s.” 

‘‘ And I have wanted you,” chimed in Mrs. 
Hanson. ‘‘Your father says Walter is going 
to the city, and there is a great deal to be 
done to put his clothes in order. I believe 
you would rather stay with those Dunnings, 
than be at home, any time.” 

“ There are enough to attend to Walter’s 
clothing, without calling upon Flora,” said 
her father, coldly. “ She is not looking well, 
this spring.” 

“ How can you say that, when her cheeks 
are rosy as a milk maid’s ? Just look at 
her,” and now that she was the object of 
marked attention, Flora’s cheeks had a deeper 


808 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


color. ‘‘ Who came home with you ? ” con- 
tinued her mother. 

Arthur Dunning.” 

But I thought Barton was your gallant.” 

‘‘ He came for me, this morning.” 

Yes, looking like a farmer,” said the 
lady, in querulous tones. 

Did he ? ” asked Flora. ‘‘ I didn’t ob- 
serve anything peculiar in his looks.” 

Of course you didn’t. His name is Dun- 
ning.” 

‘‘ I have heard worse names than that,” re- 
marked Mr. Hanson, moved by a spirit of 
contradiction. You forget that we are in- 
debted to one of that name, for Walter’s life.” 

“ I am told of it often enough to remem- 
ber.” 

At this point, the daughter made her es- 
cape, and ill the solitude of her own room, re- 
viewed the events of the evening. 

The next morning, the proprietor of The 
Oaks received an early^call from Arthur Dun- 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


309 


ning, who, in a manly way, made known his 
business. 

This is a great surprise to me,” said the 
father, in a tone which confirmed his words. 
‘‘ I had other plans. But I will make no 
objections to your marriage with Flora,” he 
added, after a silence, which seemed almost 
interminable to his companion. “ You are 
wortliy of her, and I wish you happiness. 
Perhaps you would like to see her.” 

“ Thank you, I should.” 

It would be difficult to describe Mr. Han- 
son’s feelings when lie had time for considera- 
tion. Surprised, gratified, and yet half re- 
gretting what had occurred, he fully realized 
the awkward position in which he would be 
placed as father-in-law to Mark Dunning’s 
son. But Flora had chosen for herself ; and 
there were many reasons why he would not 
object to her choice. 

For Mr. and Mrs. Dunning, the new ar- 


310 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


rangement was even more awkward than for 
others ; yet when Arthur, in the most delicate 
manner, revealed the motives which had 
actuated him in the past, and the hopes he 
now cherished, they could not find it in their 
hearts to express one regret. 

The engagement was a surprise to the en- 
tire community, although people wondered 
they had not thought of it before. There 
were the usual comments, with some talk 
about the property, which might, after all, go 
back into the family where it belonged. 

A Dunning may live at The Oaks, yet,” 
said Mrs. Conant. Alfred Hanson ought to 
thank Arthur Dunning for doing him the 
honor to marry his daughter ; though Flora’s 
a good girl, and deserves a good husband. 
It’s strange how things come round.” 

Walter could hardly find words to express 
his astonishment. Whew ! Arthur going to 
marry you!^' he exclaimed, turning to his 
sister. It’s more than I expected.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


Another life resigned too soon, 

Another sun gone down at noon. 

OON after the engagement of the 
young people, Mr. and Mrs. Hanson 
called at Mark Dunning’s cottage, 
the gentleman wearing his blandest 
manners. Knowing tliat he was in the pres- 
ence of his superiors, he comported himself 
accordingly. The time for condescension on 
his part, was past. 

Mrs. Hanson, who had foolishly thought 
she should confer a favor by making this call, 
soon realized her mistake. The favor was re- 
ceived, rather than bestowed, and she was 
glad when her husband rose to leave. 



311 


312 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


I trust we shall see you at The Oaks.” 

‘‘ Certainly, sir” replied Mark ‘ Dunning, 
bowing to the owner of his old home. 

Notwithstanding the heartiness with ' which 
this was said, it was something of a trial to 
feel that the call must be made, and it re- 
quired great self-control to manifest no emo- 
tion at sight of so many familiar objects. 

There had been many changes in the furni- 
ture of the house. New carpets were on the 
floors, a piano occupied the recess for which 
Uncle Mark had found no especial use, and 
the highly polished tables had given place to 
more modern ones, with marble tops. But 
the heavy carved chairs, and the quaint 
chimney ornaments remained. The old clock 
ticked in the hall, ringing out the hours clear 
and distinct, as it had done a half century 
before. 

Still no allusion was made to the old days, 
and not one lingering look cast behind, as the 
visitors left the house. 


MARK DUNNING'S ENEMY. 


313 


‘‘ A grand old place/’ — This was the first 
remark made by Mr. Dunning. 

“ So it is ; but not half so pleasant as our 
cottage, with its nooks and angles,” was the 
reply of his wife. 

‘‘ It may not be to you,” he .answered ; and 
then, as if thinking aloud, added, ‘‘ Twenty- 
eight years, since I was in that house before. 
Yet how short the time seems, to look back. 
Arthur is older than I was then ; and I little 
thouglit a son of mine would marry Alfred 
Hanson’s daughter. I hated that man then, 
and for years after. I thought he had robbed 
me of my rights, and made me poor, when I 
should have been rich. I know him now, for 
what he is, but I have no feeling of enmity 
towards him. • You, Grace, have taught me a 
lesson of forgiveness.” 

“ How ? ” she asked, simply. 

“ By your example. Have you not forgiven 
all the wrong I did you, all the suffering 1 
brought upon you ? ” 


314 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


“ Don’t speak of that, Mark. It has all 
gone by, and we are very happy.” 

I know it, my dear. But I injured you 
more than it was possible for Alfred Hanson 
to injure me. I am thankful I can say at 
last, that I freely forgive him.” 

‘‘ And I am thankful,” rejoined Mrs. Dun- 
ning. I knew you would some time reach 
that height of happiness.” 

“ Explain, Grace. I don’t quite understand 
your meaning.” 

“ I mean when a person can truly say, 
‘ There is no one in the wide world towards 
whom I cherish an unkind feeling,’ that per- 
son has reached the height of happiness. If 
you have forgiven one you thought your great- 
est enemy, you are at peace with all men.” 

‘‘ Yes, I am, and I trust, also, that I am at 
})eace with God. I needed that last reminder 
of my weakness to complete my reformation. 
It humbled me so that I see all things in a new 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


315 


light. The punishment I have received has 
been far less than I deserved. If either of 

our boys had gone astray ” 

‘‘ I have often thought of that, Mark. I 
wouldn’t have Bartpn like Walter Hanson, for 
all the wealth of the world.” 

The happy parents reached their liome, and 
looking lovingly upon the group which wel- 
comed them, Mr. Dunning said, I some- 
times wish I could keep you always as you are 
now, my children.'^ 

We shall always be your children,” 
answered Grace, earnestly. 

‘‘ I know it, my daughter ; but selfish people 
have a reluctance to sharing their treasures.” 

‘‘ Well, Arthur, we have made your call,” 
said his mother, soon after. 

Thank you,” he replied, his face slightly 
flushing. “ Did you see Flora ? ” 

‘‘ Of course we did.” 

And is she looking well ? ” 


316 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


‘‘ As well as usual,” was the evasive reply. 
Mrs. Forbes was right, when she said, The 
girl was worrying Iferself to death, for a good- 
for-nothing brother, who didn’t care a straw 
for her.” ^ 

‘‘ Exactly so,” replied Uncle John. Let 
us invite Flora and Grace to come out here 
and stay a week or two. Arthur can ride 
over as often as he can spend time, and I 
guess we shall all enjoy it.” 

As Arthur was more than willing to carry 
out his part of the programme, and the girls 
quite delighted with their invitation, it was 
accepted at once. ^ 

“ We shan’t make company of you,” said 
Aunt Sarah. ‘‘You can do anything you 
please, except wear long faces. If this is the 
last visit I am to have from Flora Hanson and 
Grace Dunning, I want it to be a pleasant one. 
I suppose there’s a great deal of sewing to be 
done, but it can wait a week or two.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 317 

It was well that Mr. Forbes was accus- 
tomed to hard work, else he might have com- 
plained of the large share which fell to his 
lot, while Mrs. Forbes kept open doors for all 
who chose to visit her. Attracted by good 
cheer, good company, or both, Arthur was a 
frequent visitor at the farm ; and altogether 
there was a pleasant holiday.. Flora’s health 
improved. No one allowed her to indulge in 
anxious thoughts. Walter, who found it 
convenient to call upon Aunt Sarah, declared 
himself ready for work, in good earnest. 

I’ve sowed my wild oats, Flo,” he said, as 
they sat together in the long, low hall. 

‘‘ I am very glad to hear it,” she replied, 
smiling. I know you don’t like to have me 
preach to you ; but you must let me say that 
life is something more than a play-day.” 

Yes, Flo, I begin to think it is. There’s 
no mistake but I’ve been too wild, and I 
haven’t treated you as I ought to, either. I’m 


318 V 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


going to turn over a new leaf. Father has 
engaged a place for me with one of his old 
friends ; and before winter, I shall be fairly 
settled to business. That’s the place for me, 
and I shall do my best.” 

Walter Hanson was sincere in all this. He 
had been expelled from school for general mis- 
conduct ; and however much he might seek to 
conceal the fact, he was deeply mortified. * 
Even his mother blamed him ; while his 
father was grieved, angry, and thoroughly 
alarmed. It was time for Mr. Hanson to be- 
think himself what should be done ; and he 
succeeded in impressing Walter with some- 
thing of his own apprehensions. 

You cannot go on in your present course, 
without bringing ruin upon yourself, and dis- 
grace upon your friends,” said the father. I 
desire your good, and am willing you should 
choose your work in the world ; but you must 
do something,’’^ 


MARK Dunning's enemy. 


319 


I wish to do something,” was the reply. 
What will you do ? ” 

Be a merchant.” 

‘‘ Easily said, my son. But how do you 
know that you have the first qualification for 
being a merchant ? It requires good business 
capacity, industry and perseverance, to be suc- 
cessful, and I am not sure that you have 
either. You can’t go into a large store and 
take the lead at once. You will be obliged to 
stand back and see others go before you, in 
their turn. You won’t like that. You’ll be 
judged by what you do, not by what I can do 
for you.” 

‘‘I am willing to be,” answered Walter 
with some hesitation ; the life his father had 
described being less attractive than his fancy 
painted it. 

Like many others he had looked to the 
results and forgotten the labor. It is one 
thing to gather the golden sheaves ; quite 


320 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


another to sow the seed ; and, alas ! there are 
few patient, persistent workers. 

Take , time to think of what I have said, 
and then tell me your decision.” 

Walter expressed his willingness' to do 

« 

this ; but finding serious thinking dull busi- 
ness, he varied the monotony by an occasion- 
al attempt at jollification on a small scale. 
Mr. Hanson discovered this, and exasperated 
by seeing his son in a state of partial intoxica- 
tion, threatened summary punishment if there 
should be a repetition of the offence. ‘‘ Let 
liquor alone. Anything but a drunkard ! ” 
he exclaimed with a sneer. ‘‘ How can you 
disgrace yourself in such a manner ? Go to 
your room and don’t let me see you again in 
this condition.” 

The young man hoped this would be forgot- 
ten or seem of less importance to his ^father 
the next morning ; but he was disappointed. 
Summoned to the library, he was there 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


321 


obliged to listen to a lecture which, had it 
been enforced bj example, must have been 
effective. 

I will recommend you to no position of 
trust so long as you associate with your 
present companions,” was said at last. ‘‘ I 
don’t need to be told wlio they are. If you 
can provide for yourself you may do so ; if 
not you must regard my wishes, and I will 
not have you coming home intoxicated.” 

Walter’s temper was roused; but in his 
father’s present mood lie did not dare mani- 
fest it. Muttering some apology he waited 
for what more might be said. 

Neither spoke for some minutes, although 
the father glanced now and then at his son, 
whose handsome face was fast losing its 
frank, manly expression. Anger could not 
long usurp the place of parental affection, 
even with one like Alfred Hanson. Walter 
was his idol, the center of his hopes ; and the 


322 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


sickly fear which oppressed him made his 
lips quiver with agony. It was not in his 
nature to express this ; yet he could not quite 
conceal it ; and before they parted, father and 
son had clasped hands in truer sympathy with 
each other than they had before known. 

From this time there was a decided change 
in Walter’s appearance, and after a few weeks, 
arrangements were made for his entering the 
store of a gentleman with whom his father 
had been long acquainted, and whose business 
relations were unexceptional. 

‘‘ We don’t generally like boys from wealthy 
families,” said the merchant. They have 
too many high notions, and are apt to grumble 
at hard work. Poor boys, who have their 
own way to make in the world, do the best. 
But if your boy really wants to go up the lad- 
der in the old way, we’ll give him a trial. 
That’s all the favor we can show him, and 
he’ll take the place of a young man about his 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


323 


age, who came to me barefooted, six years 
ago, and asked for work to keep him from 
starving. He has been with me ever since. 
I wasn’t mistaken in my judgement of him. 
T hope your son is all right in his habits. 
Wine may be good for you and me ; but 
young men had better let it entirely alone. 
You say he is a good scholar. 

‘‘ Yes, sir, I think he is, although he has 
no great taste for study.” 

Well, no matter for that. Books don’t 
make the man.” 

All this being accurately reported to the 
aspirant for mercantile honors, produced a 
decided effect, and made him look upon the 
world from a different stand point. He had 
thought only of amusing himself ; now, he 
considered how lie should succeed in his 
chosen pursuit. 

When Flora returned from her visit at Mr. 
Forbes’, she found Walter so kind and affec- 


324 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


tionate, that the summer days went by swift 
winged. Mr. Hanson occupied himself in 
superintending the erection of a commodi- 
ous and tasteful residence, which rumor said 
would be presented to his daughter, on the 
day of her marriage. For once, rumor was 
correct ; fitted and furnished, it awaited her 
acceptance, although Arthur Dunning would 
have much preferred* a more humble home, 
which his own means could provide. 

‘‘ Don’t be too independent,” said the 
original owner of the house. If Flora in- 
vites you to occupy the house with her, I 
advise you to accept the invitation.” 

When the early autumn days came, there 
w^as a double marriage in one of the village 
churches, which was filled with admiring 
friends of those who thus assumed the graver 
responsibilities of life.^ Grace Dunning was 
the fairer bride ; and as her future home was 
to be at a distance, it was natural that she 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 325 

should attract the more attention. The poor 
with whom she had sympathized, and the chil- 
dren whom she had taught, wept at the thought 
of losing her from their midst. Her parents, 
too, would mourn her absence ; yet she went 
forth, with their blessing, secure in the honor 
and uprightness of him to whom she had 
given her heart. 

After a short absence spent in traveling, 
Arthur Dunning and his wife took possession 
of the new house, and commenced house- 
keeping under the most favorable auspices. 

Walter Hanson went to the city fortified 
with good resolutions, and determined to do 
lushest. It was something to have such a 
brother-in-law, of whom he was justly proud, 
and upon whose counsels he could rely. The 
dangers which would beset his path, and the 
temptations he would encounter, were so 
plainly described, that he could not plead 
ignorance as an excuse for falling, 


326 MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 

You have some habits which will make it 
more diflScult for you always to do right,” 
said Arthur. It would be better to give up, 
entirely, the use of tobacco, and all intoxicat- 
ing drinks.” 

‘‘ I don’t know but you are right,” was the 
reply. Any way, I know I must be careful, 
and not go beyond moderation.” 

You must be very careful, Walter. I 
wouldn’t trust myself with anything short of 
tee-totalism.” 

Tee-totalism is rather too much for me,” 
said the young man. I don’t see any need 
of going so far. I should hate to feel that I 
couldnH smoke a cigar, or drink a glass of 
wine. It would make me think about them 
all the more, and you know that forbidden 
pleasure has most attractions.” 

No, Walter, I don’t know that. Children 
sometimes think so ; but one like you should 
have learned better.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


327 


“ Perhaps I should,” answered Walter, 
musingly. But if I have not, I thank you 
for your advice, and shall remember it. I’ve 
been on the wrong, track, till within a few 
months. Now, I hope I’ve started right ; and 
if you see me getting off, just give me a word 
of caution. You saved my life, and it ought 
to be worth something.” 

It was hard work for Walter to take the 
place assigned him in Mr. Piske’s store, and 
perform its duties faithfully. Yet he did it, 
making no complaint, and expressing no re- 
gret at his choice. His letters home were 
cheerful, addressed to both parents, and not 
to his mother alone, as they had formerly 
been. 

Mr. Piske told his father that he was doing 
well. He boarded with a good family, and 
there seemed no reason why his new life 
should not prove a success. Still feeling the 
mortification of being expelled from school, 


328 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


he curbed his hasty temper, and sought to 
please those with whom he associated ; and at 
New Year’s, when he had been four months 
with his employer, he was gratified by being 
told that he had given satisfaction. 

His mother pitied him for being so closely 
confined, and in her calls upon Flora, made 
mora because Arthur Dunning was what she 
called a rising young man, than because of 
any affection felt for her step-daughter, she 
descanted upon Walter’s hardships, and her 
own loneliness. 

I told your father this morning, that I 
didn’t believe Seth Prescott worked much 
liarder than Walter,” said Mrs. Hanson, dur- 
ing one of these calls. 

‘‘ Seth is very industrious,” was the reply. 

“ I know he is, and there’s need enough 
that he should be ; but your father might set 
WaUer up in business. He isn’t a poor man 
like Mr. Prescott.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


329 


No, mother ; but Walter must learn to 
apply himself, sometime ; and he will be all 
the better for hard work now. 

“That’s the way your father talks. But I 
don’t agree with him. There’s a difference 
between rich and poor people.” 

“ Yes,” answered Flora. “ But the poor 
of to-day • may be rich to-morrow ; and it 
wouldn’t be strange if Seth Prescott should 
be a richer man than Walter.” 

“ There is no prospect of that,” said the 
lady with a sneer of contempt. “ He is well 
enough in his place, but he never will get 
much above a common laborer.” 

“ Arthur thinks he will get a long distance 
beyond that. There has been a surprising 
change in Mr. Prescott’s family since he be- 
came a temperate man. Grace did a good 
work when she visited them on Mink hill.” 

Flora who knew this allusion to Grace 
would not be pleasant, was by no means sur- 


830 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


prised when her mother replied, “ Perhaps 
she did ; biit I never could understand her 
taste for associating with poor people.” 

‘‘ She used to say she was brought up with 
poor people. You know father Dunning was 
a poor man when Grace was a child.” 

Yes, I know, and you thought then there 
was nobody like the Dunnings.” 

‘‘ I think so now, mother ; ” and Flora 
smiled happily as she saw her husband 
coming towards the house. 

Mrs. Hanson left in a most dissatisfied 
mood, hoping that she should live to see the 
day when her Walter would eclipse the whole 
Dunning family. She had despised the father 
for being a drunkard ; yet she felt in some 
way wronged by his reformation and populari- 
ty. In her inmost heart she would have re- 
joiced at his fall even now.” 

Small prospect, however, was there of this. 
His feet were firmly set. Since having once 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


331 


fallen and come up from his humiliation, he 
was surer of himself than he had been 
before. 

“ I shall never put myself in the way of 
temptation ; neither shall I be so careful to 
avoid it,” he said to his wife, after nearly two 
years had passed. 

Then I am afraid you will be accepting 
some office, which will take you from home,” 
she replied, seriously. 

No, Grace, I shall leave my sons to enjoy 
the emoluments of office. It would be court- 
ing temptation to trust myself in the arena of 
public life. My brain might lose its equi- 
librium in the struggle for place, or heat of 
debate.” 

More than once was his firmness in this 
decision put to the test ; and none wondered 
more at his persistent refusal of office, than 
did Alfred Hanson. 

‘‘ I wouldn’t have believed it of Mark,” he 


332 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


said to himself, pouring out a glass of wine, 
as was his wont, before sitting down to look 
over some papers. He was always ambi- 
tious, and he has talent to do what he pleases. 
I wonder if he thinks of the old days he spent 
here. I wonder if he envies me.. After all, I 
haven’t been so happy as I expeeted.” 

But such thoughts were not to be indulged 
while there was a way to drown them. One 
glass of wine did not suffice ; and the second 
was drained before his nerves were quite 
steady. Through the day, .he could employ 
himself in various ways which diverted his at- 
tention from unpleasant subjects ; but the 
evenings, when spent at home, were long and 
tedious. The society of his wife had no 
charms for him ; and his house now offered 
few attractions to visitors. He spent less 
time with Flora than he would, but for fear of 
Mr. and Mrs. Dunning, whose presence was 
always a mute accusation of the wrong he 
had done them. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 333 

As time went on, lie began to feel the in- 
firmities of age, and having few resources of 
happiness within himself, he naturally in- 
creased his use of stimulants. It required 
more to get him up to the working point, and 
the effect of this indulgence was apparent to 
all who observed him. His face was bloated 

» 

and discolored ; he walked slowly and with 
difficulty, while he was so fretful that even 
Seth Prescott, whose abounding good nature 
seemed inexhaustible, was tempted to leave 
his service. 

It will turn out just as I always thought,” 
remarked Mrs. Con ant, upon her return from 
the village, where she had been, accompanied 
by her hired man, to transact some business. 

What will turn out just as you thought, 
grandmother ? ” asked Ella Bond. 

' La, child, I guess I didn’t think but what 
you’d know. I meant the matter between 
Alfred Hanson and Mark Dunning. One’s 


334 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


going up, and the other down, pretty fast, too, 
if I’m any judge of looks. If the old gentle- 
man can see what’s going on from where he 
is, he knows by this time, that he made a 
mistake in giving away his property. Mark 
never looked so bad in his worst days, as Mr. 
Hanson does, and I tell you, there’s more 
punishment to come.” 

W’hy, grandmother, you speak as though 
you really enjoyed the thought of more 
punishment.” 

No, I don’t enjoy it, but I expect it. 
Folks can’t always have their own way, when ^ 
their way is wrong ; and my mother used to 
say the wheel turned round once in fifty 
years. I called to see Miss Dunning, and 
she’d just had a letter from Grace.” 

And what did Grace write ? ” 

I don’t know ; only she’s well, and her 
baby growing nicely. She’s coming on before 
long, so if you aint gone, you can see her. 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


335 


That makes me think of another thing. I’ve 
had a good offer for this farm, and don’t 
know but I’d better take up with it. We 
don’t want to work away here, after you’re 
gone, and there aint any need of it, either. 
Your mother and I can live on what we shall 
have.” 

You can both of you live with me,” said 
Ella, smiling and blushing. 

“ No, I shall do no such thing,” replied 
Mrs. Conant, decidedly. 1 can’t learn new 
fashions, at my time of life, and I aint going 
to be in anybody’s way. You and your 
Charley will want to live different from what 
we do here, and I’m willing you should ; but 
old folks don’t want to change.” 

We don’t want you to change, grand- 
mother.” 

“ Tut, tut, child. You don’t know what 
you’re talking about. I understand such 
things better than you do.” 


336 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


‘‘ Well, mother, did you do all the business 
you wished to ? ” asked Mrs. Bond, coming 
in from a. call upon one of their neighbors. 

“ I found out the price of oats and corn,” 

4 

was the reply. There, Ella, there’s some 
music as you call it, under the wagon ^seat. 
Arthur Dunning’s wife gave it to me.” 

‘‘ Where did you see her, mother ? ” 

‘‘ She ran out and spoke to me as I was 
going by. She said Ella wanted to learn the 
music. I’m glad I bought that girl a piano, 
if it did take everything I could rake and 
scrape off from the old farm for a year. I 
don’t know what your father would think of 
such doings, though, if he was alive.” 

Ella was back and at the piano before com- 
ments could be made, and touching the keys 
with skillful fingers, filled the room with sweet 
sounds. 

O, grandmother, what a dear, 'good soul 
you were to buy me this piano ! ” she ex- 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


337 


claimed, after a half hour’s practice, during 
which Mrs. Conant listened, the very picture 
of contentment. I love you more every 
time I look at it.” 

‘‘ Well, Well, child. I’m glad you love your 
old grandmother, and I guess we’re all better 
for the music you make. I don’t see how 
we’re going to get along without it ; but I sup- 
pose there’ll be a way, and we shall find it.” 

Mrs. Conant had heard something said of 
Walter Hanson ; and later she referred to him 
in a way which showed that she had been dis- 
appointed ill her estimate of his character. 
He still continued his faithful application to 
business. Pride had much to do with this ; 
but whatever was the motive, the result was 
satisfactory. The advice given by his brother- 
in-law had not been lost upon him ; althougli 
he was not a teetotaler. 

“ Temperate in all things,” as he laughing- 
ly reported himself, he was careful not to 


338 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


overstep the bounds of moderation. He could 
smoke or let it alone, drink wine or refuse it 
as he thought best, and this seemed to him 
a most desirable power. 

Four years he had been with* Mr. Fiskc, 
and was looking forward to commencing busi- 
ness for himself, when some of his old school- 
mates being in the city, they met for a social 
evening. Supper, with wine, formed an im- 
portant item in the entertainment, and there 
was no lack of jest or merriment. Walter, 
off his guard, drank freely, and as allusion 
was made to past frolics in which he had 
borne a conspicuous part, his cheek flushed 
with anger. His companions excited as him- 
self, gave no heed to this ; but continued their 
remarks accompanied by loud bursts of laugh- 
ter. At last, expulsion from school was men- 
tioned, with a compliment to the pluck which 
had refused to make any apology. “ I was 
always proud of you for that, Hanson.’’ 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


339 


Stop ! ” cried Walter. You have said 
enough,” and his eyes gleamed with a light 
vvdiich those who knew him could not fail to 
understand, had they been in a condition to 
think calmly. 

Why, what ails you, old fellow ? ” was the 
reply. “ Didn’t you know we celebrated your 
pluck in song ? Hartshorn wrote the song, 
and we used to sing it on every possible occa- 
sion.” 

‘‘ Sing it, now,” said another. It’s tip 
top, and Hanson deserves something for 
giving us this treat.” 

Walter would have enjoyed this once. 
Now, his face grew white with rage. Stop ! ” 
he exclaimed. “ Stop ! ” But who could 
stop the clamor of hoarse voices which lin- 
gered over the chorus with such evident pleas- 
ure. 

The last words uttered, the trio raised their 
glasses, looking to their companion to do the 


340 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


same. “ Drink to your own honor, Hanson,” 
shouted one. 

‘‘ I will not drink to my shame, and neither 
shall you,” replied Walter. 

Glasses were broken and their contents 
spilled upon the table. High words ensued, 
which were followed with blows. All were 
partially intoxicated. Walter seized the party 
who had most offended and endeavored to 
hurl him to the floor, when, by a dexterous 
movement he was himself prostrated ; and at 
the same moment a stream of blood welled 
from his mouth. This sight sobered all. A 
tremor of affright ran through the group. 

“ Good heavens, have I killed him 1 ” cried 
Williams. 

The landlord of the house, whose attention 
had been called to the unusual noise, opened 
the door, and seeing, at a glance, what must 
be done, raised Walter in his arms, and with 
assistance, carried him to a bed in the adjoin- 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


841 


ing room. A physician was immediately 
summoned. A blood vessel had been rup- 
tured, but it was hoped tliat the result might 
not be serious. 

How did it happen ? ” he asked, and the 
young man who considered himself in fault, 
frankly acknowledged the truth. 

“ I suppose wine was at the bottom of it,” 
said the physician. 

“ Yes, sir, I wouldn’t hurt Hanson for the 
world.” 

“ Miserable way of doing things ! Young 
blood is hot enough, without wine.” 

Remedies were promptly applied, and when 
the flow of blood had entirely ceased, Walter 
looked up, as though he would speak. 

‘‘ Not a word,” commanded the physician. 
“ Your life depends upon being quiet. . You 
must remain where you are, for the present, 
and make the best of it.” 

“ 0 Hanson, forgive me ! ” cried Williams, 


342 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


without thought of the effect his excited man- 
ner might produce. 

Leave the room ! ” This w^s Dr. Flagg’s 
injunction; but before it could be obeyed, 
Walter had reached out his hand to grasp 
that of the friend who bent over him. 

The young man thus suddenly prostrated, 
was ill the flush of youthful vigor, with a 
large reserve force of strength, and little be- 
yond temporary weakness was apprehended 
as the consequence of his unfortunate injury. 

Any one of the trio who had been enter- 
tained at his expense, were ready to remain 
with him during the night; but this was not 
allowed. A message was sent to his boarding 
place, from there to one of his associate clerks, 
and just the one lie would himself have chosen 
appeared — George Dustin, Mr. Fiske’s favor- 
ite, who, from a starving, bare-footed boy, had 
risen to a high position of trust. 

Dr. Flagg’s directions were carefully fol- 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


343 


lowed, and morning found Walter much im- 
proved. 

Don’t speak,” said the friend, who seemed 
to read every expression of hi's face. If you 
wish to send for any one, I will attend to it. 
Perhaps you would like your mother.” 

A sign negatived this. 

“ Your father ? ” 

Still the same expression. 

Your brother-in-law, Mr. Dunning ? ” 

‘‘ Yes.” There was no mistaking the eager 
look which made reply, and a dispatch was 
sent at once. 

Fortunately, Arthur Dunning received the 
dispatch when alone, and without revealing its 
import, even to Flora, started for the city. 
Upon his arrival, he assumed all responsi- 
bilities, and after making what enquiries he 
considered necessary, exonerated all parties 
from any intentional wrong. 

w^s entix*ely to blame,” said Walter, 


344 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


when allowed to speak. The boys didn’t 
know how I felt about old times, and I was 
mad with wine. Don’t let Williams think he 
is guilty. I’ve learned a lesson.” 

Various reports of the affair were cir- 
culated ; but Arthur Dunning managed to 
forestall those which might reach the home 
circle, by writing to Flora an account of what 
had transpired. 

Don’t be alarmed,” he wrote, in conclu- 
sion. ‘‘ Walter is improving, and will soon be 
able to ride. Tell your father and mother ; 
but upon no consideration, allow them Jto 
come here.” 

As might have been expected, Mrs. Han- 
son wished to go to her son, talking of it con- 
stantly. ‘‘I know Walter wasn’t to blame,” 
she said. I never blamed him as your 
father did, when he was in school. He had 
bad associates.” 

Perhaps so, mother,” answered Flora. 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


345 


‘‘ But don’t let us talk of it. Arthur will do 
what is necessary for Walter now, and when 
he comes home, we will all help take care of 
him. Even little Mark can do something 
towards keeping him cheerful,” and she 
glanced with all the fond pride of a young 
mother, at the beautiful boy near her. 

“And that’s all you care about Walter,” 
said Mrs. Hanson, in a fretful tone. “ Nobody 
cares for either of us. Your father never 
seems to think of my comfort. Sometimes I 
am tired of living.” 

Flora was less moved by this than she 
would have been had she heard it then for the 
first time, although there was sufficient reason 
for complaint on the part of her mother. 
Mr. Hanson did not regard his wife’s com- 
fort ; and, indeed, why should he, when he 
knew so little of comfort himself. 

Walter came home and was established in 
his** favorite room. Dr. Graves was called, 


346 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


and after a careful examination of the young 
man, said briskly, You’ll need good nurs- 
ing for a while ; but we shall have you all right 
in a few w^eeks if you obey orders.” 

‘‘ I am ready to do that if you won’t keep 
me shut up too long,” was the reply. I 
know I must pay for my folly, but I’d like to 
settle the bill as soon as posible.” 

I guess you came pretty near paying all 
your bills at short notice,” said th^ doctor. 

You would have died without skillful treat- 
ment.” 

This led Walter to think very seriously. 

It was all so sudden, so unnecessary,” as 
he said to himself, over and over again. 
AVhy should he have been angry at the 
pleasantry which was really intended as 
praise ? Ah, wine was the cause of all his 
trouble. How much better if he had never 
tasted it ! 

Sometimes it was very hard to endure the 


MAKE DUNNING’S ENEMY. 347 

restraint imposed upon him. He grew tired 
of home. His mother burdened him with 
attentions, urging upon him. one cordial after 
another from which she, herself, professed to 
have received great benefit. 

‘‘ Do you take medicine all the time ? ’’ he 
asked one day, when she brought a new 
remedy. 

‘‘ I am obliged to take something to keep 
up my health and spirits,” she answered, eva- 
sively. What makes you look so at me ? ” 
she added, directly after. 

I was thinking,” and he. closed his eyes, 
wearily. A suspicion was aroused which he 
would gladly repress 

‘‘ Are you sleepy, Walter ? ” 

I should like to sleep,” he replied, wish- 
ing to be alone. 

Not long after this, however, he seemed 
wide awake, when Flora looked in. 

“ Getting stronger every day,” she asked. 


348 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


“ Yes, and I’m better just now for seeing 
you. I want to have a good talk on family 
matters. Do you know that father is a hard 
drinker, and mother is continually dosijig 
with cordials. Say, Flo, do you know it ? ” 

I have been afraid it was so,” she replied, 
slowly. I am very sorry, but I try not to 
think of it. All I could say would do no 
good. You know I never had much influence 
over father and mother.” 

I know you never had half your rights, 
- here,” was the reply. I was to blame, my- 
self, and I am glad enough that you have such 
a good home. Arthur is a splendid fellow, 
and his father is a man to be proud of Any- 
where. Don’t you love him, Flo ? ” 

No need of answering this, and Walter, 
who was in the mood for talking, continued. 
“ Mr. Dunning never was so bad as people 
pretended. He doesn’t drink so much as a 
good many others who call themselves tern- 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


349 


perate. lam beginning to get my eyes wider 
open than I fancy, about some things.” 

I am glad to see them wide open,” re- 
joined his sister, wishing to divert his atten- 
tion. You have good care.” 

‘‘ Yes, though I don’t need much care. 
Seth comes in to see me after he gets through 
work, and he is the best company there is in 
the house. I am always glad to hear his 
step.” 

Walter had been at home but a few days 
when he received a letter from Williams, full 
of sympathy, and ' expressing the greatest sor- 
row for his friend’s suffering. 

That horrid supper has had one good 
effect,” he wrote. “ I drank my last glass of 
wine, then ; and the other boys say the same. 

“ Do forgive me. I shan’t forgive myself 
until I see you well again. I am doing men- 
tal penance hourly.” 

This epistle was soon answered, and the 


350 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


writer breathed more freely after knowing 
that there was no longer cause for anxiety. 

When the invalid could walk so far, Flora’s 
sitting room was. his chosen place for rest, 
where little Mark amused him with childish 
prattle. 

Going to bring him up a teetotaler,” said 
the young uncle, one day, after laughing to 
see with what tenacity Mark grasped a cup 
containing cold water. 

Certainly. Do you suppose Arthur would 
allow his boy to taste of intoxicating di-iuks ? ” 
‘‘ No, I don’t suppose lie would,” was the 
reply. Any way, I shouldn’t if I was in his 
place. I have changed some of my opinions 
within a few weeks, and I am getting disgust- 
ed with the exhibitions of immoderate drink- 
ing I am forced to see.” 

Flora, who understood the import of this 
remark, asked a question foreign to the sub- 
ject, when Walter said, a little impatiently, 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


351 


You don’t allow me to speak of father and 
mother. If you saw as much as I do, you 
couldn’t keep silent all the time. It’s a relief 
to get down here, out of the way.” 

And I am very glad to liave you here ; 
and see, there is Barton.” 

‘‘ He doesn’t look much like a farmer, after 
all, does he, Flo ? ” said her brother. 

‘‘ I don’t know exactly how a farmer 
should look. He is a fine looking young 
man. Father Dunning has given him a deed 
of the farm, so he is now a landholder.” 

Yes, I am a free landholder, you wee bit, 
responded Barton, raising his nephew in his 
arms. ‘‘ You, older gentleman must come 
over and see wliat improvements I am making 
in doors and out. The old house is under- 
going repairs.” 

Previous to receiving new tenants,” added 
Walter. 

‘‘ Yes, sir, the rats and mice have occupied 
it long enough.” 


352 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


And you are satisfied with your farmer’s 
life ? ” 

Satisfied ! That don’t at all express my 
feelings. I wouldn’t change places with the 
president.” 

‘‘ And is a certain young lady of whom I 
have heard, as much in love with farming as 
yourself? ” 

But Barton was gone, swinging his broad 
brimmed hat, and laughing heartily. 

Splendid, isn’t he, Flo ? I wish I was 
strong as he ; and I might have been, but for 
that confounded supper.” 

With all his efforts at patience, time hung 
heavily upon Walter’s hands. lie longed for 
the stir and bustle of the city. 

“ You can’t go to the city for three months, 
at least,” said Dr. Graves to his patient. ‘‘ If 
you can go then, you may consider yourself a 
lucky fellow.” 

And by that time, find the place I had 
chosen for myself, filled by some one else.” 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


3,^3 


No trouble about that,” replied the doctor. 

There’s always plenty of room in the upper 
stories. I suppose you’ve heard that before.” 

“ Yes, sir, and it’s my opinion there are 
upper stories in all kinds of business. I guess, 
too, when you have climbed up to them, you 
will find them furnislied very much alike.” 

I guess you will, Walter. It’s how you do, 
not ivhat you do.” 

When three months had expired, Mr. Han- 
son furnished money for the establishment of 
his son in business, with a desirable partner, 
and matters at The Oaks went on as usual. 
The master gave orders, and fretted that they 
were not fulfilled so soon as given. The 
mistress drank her cordials, and dozed, when 
dozing was possible. 

Walter prospered. ‘‘ Everytliing looks well 
for our firm,” he wrote. “ We are doing bet- 
ter than we had reason to expect. Mr. Fiske 
compliments us.” 


354 MARK Dunning’s enemy. 

The marriage of our friend Barton was the 
most important event in the history of his 
family, during the next two years. Then, 
life seemed to him brighter than before. 
There was a pi^no in his home, as he had 
wished ; there were books and pictures ; just 
as many as though he had been a lawyer. 
His friends enjoyed visiting him, as he had 
prophesied. 

His knowledge of bees was far beyond that 
of Mrs. Conant, who had given him his first 
lessons in regard to their management ; and 
to sit at his table was literally to feast on 
milk and honey. 

Alfred Hanson and Mark Dunning had lived 
to see their children well established in life. 
Providence had ordered that their interests 
should be somewhat intermingled, both in 
youth and age, although their characters were 
so widely different. With every passing year 
one rose to a higher position, while the otlier 
sunk still lower. 


MARK Dunning's enemy. 


355 


‘‘ He can’t live in this way much longer,” 
said Dr. Graves, speaking of Mr. Hanson to 
the lawyer. The quantity of liquor he 
drinks, would > make drunkards of half a 
dozen men. I am looking every day that a 
fit of apoplexy will carry him off.” 

Couldn’t you give him a word of caution, 
doctor ? ” 

“ I have given him a great many,” was the 
reply. “ I had a long talk with him about 
six months ago, and I made up my mind then 
that it was the last. He says he only drinks 
what he needs, and he knows best how much 
that is.” 

Another month, and the community was 
startled by the death of Alfred Hanson, dying, 
as he had lived, without preparation for the 
eternity before him. Stricken down sudden- 
ly, there were no farewell messages to absent 
friends, or whispered word to others. He 
fell from his chair while apparently sleeping ; 


356 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


and although he breathed for hours, gave no 
sign of consciousness. 

The funeral was attended by a large con- 
course of people ; but the mourners were few. 
Strange sight was it to see Mark Dunning’s 
noble figure bending for a moment over the 
cold form of his enemy, and dropping a tear 
of pity for the dead. 

A will was found, bearing date a few days 
before Flora’s marriage, by the terms of 
which, after making provision for his wife, the 
property of the deceased was to be equally 
divided between his children.. 

Arthur Dunning was appointed executor of 
the will, and Walter remained at The Oaks 
only long enough to make arrangement for 
his mother’s comfort. 

The property lie received enabled him to 
enlarge his business ; and he looked forward 
confidently. His gains were sure. Each 
year he made some advance towards the goal 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 357 

of his hopes. The world saw in him much to 
praise, and little to condemn. 

He was a temperate man, not a tee-totaler, 
as his sister had at one time fancied ; and 
here lay his danger, although he scorned the 
idea of immoderate indulgence. . After his 
mother’s death, he seldom visited the old 
home, but rumors of fast living and doubtful 
associates were heard by those who watched 
his career with interest. Arthur Dunning 
made himself sure that these rumors were 
well founded, and then claiming a brother’s 
privilege, remonstrated. 

‘‘ I am injuring no one,” was the reply of 
the young merchant. If I choose to spend 
my money as you think foolishly, I wrong no 
one.” 

‘‘ It is not your money, but your honor, 
Walter.” 

“ My honor is safe enough. I don’t need a 
guardian,” and these insolent words were ac- 
companied by a look of anger. 


358 


MARK Dunning’s enemy. 


No response was made to this; and soon 
the speaker added, Forgive me, brother 
Arthur. I am ashamed of myself. Forget 
what I said, just now.” 

Forgiveness was accorded at once ; but 
there was reason why this boast should be 
remembered. 

Twice had the earth been clothed with 
summer verdure, and twice had it been bound 
with icy fetters, when Walter Hanson came 
home to die. For weeks and months he had 
struggled against this conclusion ; accepting 
it only when a council of physicians told him 
that his case was hopeless. 

Never quite so strong after his prostration 
by the loss of blood, he might yet have lived 
to a good old age, had he heeded the lesson 
then taught. Failing to do this, and trusting 
his vaunted powers of self-control, he had 
gone on step by step, until the most charitable 
of his friends pronounced him ruined. His 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


359 


career of dissipation was shortened by failing 
health, and now he was forced to continue 
the use of stimulants, as the only means of 
prolonging life. 

In the clear country air, he seemed to rally ; 
but the improvement was only temporary. 
He knew he must die ; and oh ! how illy fitted 
was he to meet his judge. In health, he 
would listen to no preaching, as he called 
every allusion to personal religion; now, 
religion appeared of all things, most impor- 
tant. 

My business in this world is easily set- 
tled,” he one day said to Flora. Arthur 
will attend to that ; but who will atone for 
my sins ? ” 

The dear Saviour has made atonement for 
the sins of the whole world,” answered his 
sister, with a prayer that this blessed truth 
might reach his heart. 

Tell me more about it,” said Walter, clos- 


860 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


iiig his eyes to shut out the sight of all sur- 
rouijdiiig objects. ‘‘ Tell me just as you 
would tell Mark and Meeta.” 

I will read to you of the Saviour ; ” and 
as she read, she added some words of com- 
ment and encouragment. 

‘‘ Thank you, Flora. Now please to give 
me the Bible, and let me think awhile, alone.” 

Groping in weakness, the dying man could 
but utter the prayer, God be merciful to me 
a sinner,” until, trusting the gracious promises, 
he at length found faith to say, Lord, I be- 
lieve ; help thou mine unbelief.” 

One thing more I wish to do,” he said, as 
towards the close of a brilliant autumn day, 
his brother and sister were sitting near him. 
“ I wish to give this place to your father, 
Arthur. It should have been his at Uncle 
Mark’s death ; and it will make me happier to 
know that he will spend his old age here. 
My property will be yours and Flora’s ; and 
you will have enough without this.” • 


MAJRK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 


361 


I can say nothing to your plan,” replied 
Arthur, with much emotion, while Flora 
could only whisper, I should he very glad to 
have father Dunning live here.” 

Then let me make my will now. Bring 
the materials, and see that there are wit- 
nesses within call.” 

The will made and witnessed, Walter Han- 
son felt that he had done with things of earth ; 
yet for all who called upon him, he had words 
of kindness and counsel. Only now, that he 
was about to leave his friends, did. he know 
how much he loved them. Mrs. Dunning, or 
as the good woman allowed him to call her 
mother Dunning, spent many hours in his 
room, while her husband rarely allowed a day 
to pass, without looking in upon him. 

There was no lack of delicacies prepared to 
tempt his appetite ; but he ate little. His life 
was sustained by stimulants, until the poor 


362 


MARK DUNNING S ENEMY. 


body, decaying while he breathed, grew to be 
a burden to himself. 

After a night of unusual restlessness, he 
desired that his friends might be summoned ; 
naming each one separately, and asking that 
they would come for the day. 

Do you think Barton will be willing to 
spend time to see me die ? ’’ he asked his 
brother, with a sad smile. 

He will be glad to come and stay with 
you,” was the reply. “ Father and mother, 
too. I will go for them, myself, when Flora 
comes in.” 

All came. Walter, bolstered up in bed, 
drained the glass held to his lips, and then 
said, That is the last. Take away the 
stand of medicine.” 

‘‘ But, my dear brother, ” 

“ I know. Flora, I shall die sooner. That 
is all, and I am not afraid to die, now. 


MARK DUNNING’S ENEMY. 363 

/ 

Weaker, fainter, was his breathing as the 
day wore on, and, at midnight, a silent group 
gathered around the dead. 

Another life resigned too soon. 

Another sun gone down, at noon. 



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